Until Proven Innocent
by Lupineleigh
Summary: After helping Scrooge McDuck update his bin's security measures, DW is accused of a horrible crime and Gizmoduck is sent to capture him. DW is in for a busy week dodging friends and foes while trying to untangle a mystery that leads to one of Duckburg's famous residents.
1. Chapter 1

_This takes place roughly five months after the "My Daughter, My Life" trilogy. I kept the focus primarily on Darkwing and Gizmoduck, with less drama, more humor, and minimal angst. That being said, this is a mystery that takes a while to build up, since I started with a scene two days before the major event happens. _

_There were tons of ways I could have written this, but I hope I've portrayed the characters accurately and entertainingly. Best part is, you don't have to read my other stories to follow this one. So sit back and enjoy! _

* * *

><p>Darkwing Duck braked suddenly, spinning his trademark motorcycle 170 degrees on the street. He parked automatically, his attention entirely focused on the Jay Jeweler's store. Whipping out his gas gun, he reached the open door in a bound. He pressed his back against the bricks, ignoring the stumbling steps of his sidekick while he listened to the distinctive sounds of an on-going robbery. He counted three suspects from the different locations of tinkling glass and careless feet.<p>

"Ready to back me up, LP?" Darkwing said in a low voice.

"You bet, DW!" Launchpad said a little too loudly. Darkwing elbowed him in the gut, but the thieves inside were making too much noise to hear him.

Darkwing smiled smugly to himself. He loved this part.

Swinging the door out of the way, he threw a smoke bomb inside and began his trademark speech.

"I am the Terror that Flaps in the Night! I am the silent alarm that ruins your heist! I am Darkwiiing Duck!"

By the time he finished his introduction, the thieves had made a break for the front exit. But Darkwing was an expert at stopping small-time criminals. He appeared out of a second poof of smoke directly in front of them, cutting off their escape. His thrown voice had driven them straight to him.

As he'd expected, the first two raised their crowbars at him; the weapon of choice for rank amateurs. He ducked and dodged their staggering swipes and easily brought both to their knees with a chop to the throat of the taller one and a sweeping kick to the other's leg. Cartwheeling, he flipped over them to land in front of the third robber.

This plucky fellow not only threw his crowbar at the crime fighter, but also his loot bag. Darkwing caught the bag, expecting to feel its contents shifting, but was surprised to hear it crackle with paper. He didn't take the time to ponder the significance, though. The guy was already out the door.

Darkwing quickly caught up to his target and raised his gun. "Suck gas, evil-doer!"

The canister of tear gas blinded and choked the ski-masked stranger.

Darkwing glanced back in the store to check that the other two were still incapacitated. Both were right where he had left them, with Launchpad handcuffing them.

The short guy was coughing hard, but he still managed to get to his feet and rush down an unlit alley.

Darkwing grinned. "So, it's going to be a game of cat and mouse, eh? Well, be on your guard, Buster, because this mouser is a tiger!"

Scrambling up a fire escape, Darkwing fired a grappling hook from his custom gun at the adjacent building. Climbing atop a drug store a block away, he scanned the street below and saw the figure he was seeking. He swung down to intercept.

"Though all may try, none can escape the might and mastery of the Midnight Mallard!" Darkwing gave himself a pep talk to hide his annoyance, and delight, at being challenged by a mere commoner. "You can outrun me; you can outmaneuver me; you may even outwit me, but every time you turn around, I'll be on your trail!" Darkwing announced as he glided down with his cape, landing behind another smokescreen.

The thief tried dodging around a corner, but Darkwing easily took him down with a kick to the back, sending him tumbling flat on his face. The crook groaned and stayed put.

"Eh, eh, eh," Darkwing brushed his hands together triumphantly. "Another scurrilous scum stopped by the stupendous stamina of the super sleuth!"

"Bravo..." a dark voice responded from the shadows, clapping his hands softly.

Darkwing immediately went on the defense, whipping out his gas gun and facing the unseen foe. "I'd know that voice anywhere! Show yourself Negaduck!"

The identical mallard stepped out from behind the drugstore dumpster, the moonlight and security light overhead illuminating his bright yellow jacket.

"Well, well. So you do have some gray matter after all. I'm impressed..." Negaduck's sarcastic tone needled at his purple costumed doppelgänger. "In fact, rather than killing you outright, I'm going to give you a chance, Dimwit! See if you can get that brain cell of yours to work! Later! Loser!"

With that last insult, Negaduck tipped his red hat and ran, quickly disappearing around a corner.

"Oh no you don't!" Darkwing pursued his villainous lookalike, forgetting his former target. The thief waited until Darkwing was out of sight before picking himself up with a soft groan and staggering into the shadows.

Darkwing ran hard to keep his terrible twin in sight. Realizing Negaduck was leading him somewhere, he extracted a pencil-shaped microphone from an inner coat pocket and spoke into it.

"Launchpad, tell the police the third associate from the jewel heist is on Victoria and Feather. I'll be needing the Ratcatcher. Darkwing out."

"Heh heh, right'o DW!" Darkwing heard Launchpad's reply. He gave his sidekick a few moments to contact the police as requested and get back to the motorcycle before lifting the mic to his bill again.

"Darkwing Duck to Ratcatcher. Code words: let's get dangerous!"

Forty seconds later, the motorcycle roared around a corner and bore down on his location. He also saw Negaduck waving his hat at him from a side street. He turned in pursuit of the villain and leapt in the air just as his enemy's similarly designed motorcycle charged him.

Darkwing flipped gracefully, carrying his momentum to where his own bike careened to a stop. He landed in the driver's seat and quickly exchanged his gray slouch hat for a winged purple helmet, shifting the bike back into manual gear.

Negaduck laughed and revved the engine, the bright colored Troublemaker placing some distance between it and the Ratcatcher. Focussed on the Troublemaker's tail lights, he hardly noticed his sidekick's greeting from his sidecar. He automatically interrogated Launchpad about the robbers' arrest and the police report as he skillfully maneuvered the streets, making lightning turns to keep Negaduck in sight. As he'd expected, his nemesis pulled a few tricks on him, dropping nails and shooting rockets.

Darkwing evaded the obstacles and projectiles easily and slowly gained on the fiend. He pulled closer, urging his beloved bike to give him just a little more power. Suddenly, the Troublemaker braked hard and the Ratcatcher plowed into it, sending Darkwing flying over both visors. He somersaulted in midair and brought his feet down on the beak-like hood of his foe's bike, wheeling around to face off his mortal enemy. He blinked in surprise. Negaduck was missing.

Looking around, Darkwing couldn't find a reason for either the sudden braking or the villain's disappearance.

"I don't get it! How could he vanish in midair? He was going sixty miles an hour! He couldn't just jump off! I'd have seen it!" he exclaimed.

Launchpad surveyed the damage to both motorcycles and paused in his examination of the Troublemaker.

"Uh, DW, there's something you ought'a see..."

"Not now, LP, I'm ranting... Maybe there was a line he grabbed while driving under it, or maybe there was..."

"But Negaduck wasn't driving!"

"Of course he was! He wouldn't let one of his gang drive it in his place! He's too possessive of his property!"

"DW, look! The Troublemaker was on autopilot! He controlled it by remote. He wanted us to crash!"

"Pah. Yeah right. As if Negaduck would sacrifice his own custom-built bike just to mess with me. There's something I'm not seeing here. Something that ties Negaduck's uncharacteristic arrival and disappearance with the robbery..."

Darkwing pulled out his magnifying glass and perused the crash, going over the Troublemaker with all the tools he could use, even taking a microscopic sample from the tire tread and the seat. Negaduck's disappearance was quickly explained. There was a spare cape and hat, rigged as a decoy to the Troublemaker's seat. While he was looking over the fine details, Launchpad continued studying the ruined bike.

"Hey, look!" Launchpad exclaimed. "I can peel the fender right off! It's like it's wearing a tarp or somethin'."

"Did you just say "peel off?"" Darkwing asked, finally giving Launchpad his attention. Examining the bike under his magnifier, he was startled to realize the vehicle was indeed wearing a plastic mold of the Troublemaker. It wasn't Negaduck's motorcycle after all. "Hold the phone! Launchpad, do you know what this means?"

"Uh, it means Negaduck was trying to pull the wool over your eyes?"

"It means he got away!" Darkwing's feet left the ground in his fury as he spat out the words. He pouted for a bit, before calming himself down. "Well, now that I know it's a fake, there isn't going to be much evidence on this thing. Negaduck probably had the Fearsome Four make the molding. I'll run down the serial number on the bike and see where it came from, or if it was stolen, but I suspect that will be a dead end, too…"

Darkwing stretched and yawned, glancing blearily at the brightening skyline. "It's getting past my usual bedtime, LP. How 'bout we call it a night and look into the details later?"

"Sounds good to me. Er, DW? How are we gonna get home?" he pointed at the crunched up nose of the Ratcatcher.

"No problem. We'll just have the Thunder Quack pick us up and drop off the old Ratcatcher at the shop..."

"Great! So, uh, do you have the Thunder Quack transponder with ya, DW? Cause I kind of left it in my other jacket..."

"Why certainly, Launchpad! It's..." Darkwing patted his jacket and slowly turned to look back at his crumpled bike. He slouched. "In the glovebox..."

The glovebox was buried in the seat of the fake Troublemaker.

Darkwing sighed. "Figures. We'll have to call our 'special' tow service. Then we can call it a night. I'm sure I can talk J. Gander into saving the paper work for later…"

* * *

><p>Later turned out to be much later than either duck expected. Vladimir Gryzlikoff was the agent who came to pick up the bikes in a beat-up tow truck and he shoved a pile of papers in Darkwing's lap to work on while he drove back to S.H.U.S.H. Darkwing started to protest, but the threat of being left behind to walk, in daylight, to HQ temporarily silenced him.<p>

He filled out the files, but most of the lingo was a bunch of procedural mumbo jumbo that he neither understood nor appreciated. He enlisted Launchpad's help, but as the first one on the scene and the one who'd "contaminated" evidence, according to Gryz, Darkwing had to do most of the grunt work.

By the time he was halfway through, it was already 10am and Launchpad had fallen asleep on the desk across from him. Darkwing sighed and woke him. Both got a cup of coffee and a granola bar from the hall vending machine and ran into Gryzlikoff.

"Finished with paperwork already, Comrade? Must be new record."

Darkwing straightened his lapels with a disdainful sniff. "Setting records is what I do best, "Pal.""

Gryzlikoff crossed his massive arms, unconvinced.

Launchpad further spoiled things by scratching his head and saying, "Gee, I thought I saw only half the pile in the outbox."

Darkwing shook with fury, his fingers inches from his sidekick's scarf.

Gryzlikoff smiled smugly. "Vell, perhaps you can finish other half in record time, too."

"I've got a better idea!" Darkwing glowered. "Why don't you invest in digital filing software so those who don't get comp pay don't waste their valuable time! What is it with you people, anyways! Everything you have is cutting edge technology! Why don't you make robots or something to do the paper pushing?"

"Because our funding is directed toward defense," Hooter explained, coming around a corner.

Darkwing had been about to jump Gryzlikoff, but the director's calm voice immediately brought him down. Likewise, Gryzlikoff's fist unclenched.

"And our computers are constantly pooling data and scanning frequencies for possible threats," Hooter continued. "I'm sure you understand, Darkwing, that even S.H.U.S.H. is not immune to budget cuts."

"What about "hero" cuts? Surely the government doesn't expect volunteers to write damage reports after a graveyard shift!" Darkwing spouted off.

Hooter replied levelly. "Sorry, Darkwing. As the main operative on the scene, you are responsible for your actions. Thankfully there was no property damage to report after the initial break in..."

"Besides MY property..." Darkwing sulked with his arms crossed, thinking about his bike.

"And the company that owns the chain of Jay Jeweler's has no grounds to sue," Hooter continued over the sullen superhero.

"Sue!" Darkwing jumped, incredulous. "I stopped the crooks! I prevented damage and losses! I should be rewarded! Or at least thanked, not slapped on the wrist..." he gestured with his hands.

"Relax, DW. At least you didn't have to process the scene!" Launchpad said cheerfully.

Darkwing crossed his arms again and replied dourly.

"Hmmph. At this rate, I would have preferred photo documenting and micro-examining property over paperwork..."

Hooter smiled. "Perhaps Agent Gryzlikoff could be of assistance."

"Vhat?" the bear started.

"Heh. That'll be the day!" Darkwing muttered under his breath. Gryz still heard him and growled. Hooter held up his hand to still the simmering argument and continued.

"Agent Gryzlikoff, please ask someone from the, uh, "D" Squad to join you in the conference center. With their help, the rest of the report should be finished in no time."

"The "D" Squad?"" Darkwing asked with a hint of sardonicism.

Gryzlikoff glared at him before questioning Hooter. "Vhy are ve helping this incompetent oaf, Director?"

""Incompetent!" Why I ought'a...!" Darkwing rolled up his sleeves. Launchpad grabbed his arm.

"Gentlemen!" Hooter exclaimed. "Need I remind you we are all on the same side?" Straightening his coat irately, Hooter urged Darkwing and Launchpad back into the conference room. "Now Darkwing, finish what you can and I'll arrange for refreshments to be sent in."

"Oh boy!" Launchpad rubbed his stomach in anticipation.

Hooter sent in Agents Deer and Donkey, from the short-lived "Darkwing Squad," to take notes for the rest of the report while Darkwing settled into story-telling mode, casting himself as the epitome of glory. Gryzlikoff dutifully asked the remainder of the questions that needed to filled out and refrained from commenting as Darkwing answered. Agents Deer and Donkey asked for further details as they were needed and soon the report was done.

Everyone shook hands (Gryz and Darkwing both squeezed too hard and parted only when Launchpad and Agent Donkey intercepted their silent challenge) and finally the tired ducks departed the facility. They left the S.H.U.S.H. compound around 2pm and crashed in bed, changed and fed, thirty minutes later.

* * *

><p>Gosalyn got home half-past three. Ignoring the blatant "DO NOT DISTURB" sign posted on Drake's door, she jumped on her sleep-deprived superhero to loudly announce she was home.<p>

"Subtlety and courtesy escape you, don't they, DEAR!" Drake grumbled with both eyes stubbornly sealed.

"You're the one who's always saying you're glad to see me no matter what time it is, and that you want to know that I got home okay."

"Be that as it may, I have had exactly…" Drake cracked an eye to glare at the clock. "An hour's sleep since noon yesterday. I'm running on fumes at the moment, so please be so kind as to shut the door on your way out and refrain from making a commotion."

"A commotion! Come on, Dad, don't you remember what today is?"

"My mind isn't exactly running full throttle," Drake snapped, sensing his drowsiness lifting and grouchily refusing to let himself wake up any further.

Gosalyn glared at him and resorted to the next best thing there was for waking him up. Her fingers raced across his ribs, tickling him mercilessly through the covers. He couldn't ignore it. He bolted upright in a fit of helpless giggles. Finally giving in to the fact that he was fully, albeit reluctantly awake, he looked straight at his darling daughter.

"What is it, Gos? Was a new "Whiffle Boy" game or another "Mutants from Mars" dvd released? Or did I promise to take you to a baseball game or the arcade or the movies or something?"

Drake loved his precocious charge more than anything in the world, but her demands had a knack for demolishing his personal schedule and wavering his needs.

"What! No! It's way more important than that!" Gosalyn waved her hands in front of her, her bright green eyes full of urgency.

"Seriously?" Drake raised an eyebrow. "What could be more important than your entertainment ideas?"

"Dad! Launchpad's friend is coming over in less than an hour!"

"Oh, is that all…" Drake stretched and yawned before widening his eyes. "Wait, which friend?"

"Dad! How many friends drive all the way out here from Duckburg? It's Fenton, remember?"

"Oh right, Fenton…FENTON! Oh perfect. The one guy in the world that annoys me more than that ridiculous Gizmoduck is invading my space and my sanity, on what is already shaping out to be one of the worst days of my personal life! Oh, the irony of Fate…" Drake slumped back on his pillow and put a hand over his eyes. "I feel a migraine coming on…"

"Come on, Dad, he's not that bad."

"No? Maybe that's because he didn't go through Your wardrobe and wear Your robe or slippers, or use Your shampoo and aftershave, or clean out your favorite, not to mention difficult to find, ice-cream. On top of it all, nearly discovering the route to My "SECRET" hideout!"

"Chill, Dad. I was just giving you fair warning. I wanted you to have time to wake up and take some aspirin before he got here." Gosalyn reached into the nightstand drawer to pull out the pain pills that were always close by. "And secure some of Darkwing's super secrets."

"Thanks, Sweetie." Drake muttered appreciatively, accepting the pills and dragging himself out of bed. "Give me ten minutes before you wake Launchpad, Gos. I don't want him to see how paranoid Fenton makes me."

"Too late. He already knows. And besides, he's on the couch. What were you guys doing last night anyways? The school kids were talking about an accident involving the Ratcatcher…?"

Darkwing scowled.

"I'll tell you about that later, Kiddo. For now, suffice it to say that Darkwing's patrols will be on foot or by air for the next week while Negaduck is terrorizing the locale…" He dragged his feet toward his closet. Even though he was awake, his body was not quite ready to fully operate.

Gosalyn agreed to drop the subject for now and hurried to her room to drop off her backpack. This was going to be an interesting evening.

Four thirty came far too soon for Drake's comfort. Fenton worked for the world's richest duck and could accurately count anything at a glance. That fact didn't bother Drake, but the fact that he was a number one fan of Gizmoduck, and a clumsy chatterbox, drove Drake crazy.

Fenton was right on time, greeting Launchpad with that strange exchange of hoopla and wiggling that looked like a cross between a chicken dance and a child's impression of a train. The display made Drake want to hit his head against a wall. Gosalyn politely greeted the accountant and ushered him into the living room. Fixing her scowling guardian with a pointed stare, she silently reminded Drake to at least attempt to be civil.

Slipping into the kitchen, Drake grabbed a couple bags of snacks and bowls, putting on the air of the gracious host. Before he could so much as extend the chips and pretzels, Fenton snatched the bags right out of his hands with a chipper exclamation.

"Oh thanks! Here you are, Launchpad!" Passing off the pretzels to the pilot, Fenton plopped back on the couch next to Gosalyn and popped the chip bag open, holding it so she could reach in. "Got any dip, Drakearoonie?" Without giving Drake a chance to reply to either the question or the despised nickname, Fenton continued, his eyes glued to the television. "While you're at it, could you toss in three Koo Koo Kolas?"

"That's not all I'd like to toss..." Drake grumbled through grit teeth. As he went back to the kitchen, he eavesdropped on the light hearted chatter in the other room.

"So, Mr. Crackshell," Gosalyn started off in reporter mode, "Launchpad said you're here for work?"

Fenton leaned back on the sofa to begin his story, potato chip crumbs spilling out of his mouth. "Well, Mr. McDuck has launched a new traveling exhibit featuring some of the stuff he's found all over the world. Mr. McDuck wanted me to be present at the premiere to make sure everything is still accounted for at closing. So I took the liberty of getting tickets for the opening gala this evening for all of us. You'll get to rub elbows with high society and enjoy a free buffet, along with seeing firsthand what my ol' buddy Launchpad here used to do in the old days!"

"Oh puhlease!" Drake growled to himself in the refrigerator as he dug around for one of Launchpad's bean and cheese dips. Wrinkling his beak as he found the plastic-wrapped bowl, he tucked it under his arm and sulkily grabbed the soda. "As if some moldering mounds of termite trash, and rusty jewelry from forgotten civilizations are going to impress us..."

Launchpad chuckled as he finished chewing his snack. "You had me at "buffet." Hey, do ya suppose Mister McDee will be there tonight as well? Gosh I haven't seen him since... Heh heh, I don't know when! Must'a been the last time he hired me to fly him someplace. I've still got the lowest rates around..." he added as an aside to Gosalyn.

"Make that last year, Launchpad," Gosalyn reminded him. "We met Mr. McDuck during Negaduck's takeover of the city*..." _(Refers to "The Villain's Revolt")_

"Oh, right. Still, we didn't have much of a chance to catch up then..."

Although Launchpad had nothing to hide about his former life, the lack of respect he'd received from Scrooge had tempered most of Duckburg's opinion of him personally. He'd jumped at the opportunity to start anew when Darkwing literally fell into his hangar out in the countryside. He'd left a note on his old shack in Duckburg saying he was going to be out of town for a few months and since then, he'd only gone back for Junior Woodchucks meetings and to fly Mr. McDee on a few more missions.

Of course, flying for Mr. McDee meant he had to take some vacation time from DW, but he was never gone for more than a week and DW knew how to contact him in emergencies. Other than recounting his latest adventures when he got back, Launchpad only shared details about his former life in Duckburg if he was asked, or when something reminded him of a previous adventure.

During this momentary lull in conversation, while Fenton and Gosalyn watched TV and Launchpad mulled over his memories, Drake returned from the kitchen with his hands full. Launchpad jumped up to help him, taking the serving tray while Drake passed out the sodas.

"Um, Fentonito," Drake said as he sat in his chair. "Not to sound too ungrateful, but is this by chance a formal event?"

"Well of course! There's going to be a band at the opening ceremony and entertainment throughout the night! Plus Mayor Minya was invited, along with the Rockefeathers and of course Mr. McDuck, and Ms. Windbag..."

Drake cleared his throat. "Don't you think all this is a little "over the top"? I mean, you seriously don't expect Gosalyn to sit back and listen to all this hullabaloo?"

"I'd bet Honker would enjoy it..." Launchpad piped in, grinning submissively when he saw Drake's glare.

Fenton was too deep in thought to notice. "I guess I could get some more tickets...Mr. McDuck did say I could invite as many friends as I wanted..."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself on our account, Fenton, ol' pal." Drake said with heavy sarcasm. "You and Launchpad can "rub elbows with high society" all you want. Gos has homework I need to help her with."

"But Dad...! Tomorrow's Saturday!" Gosalyn whined, not so much because she wanted to look at antiques but because she didn't want to hang out with her obsessive father when he was clearly in a foul mood.

"No buts, young lady," Drake shook a finger at her. "Besides, the sooner it's done the more time you'll have this weekend to do what you want!"

"Aw, homework can wait another night," Fenton waved his hand dismissively. "This is a chance to brush up on some real live history..."

""Live" being an overstatement..." Drake grumbled.

"And who knows? You might get a chance to talk to a celebrity!"

"Oh joy. I can hardly control my enthusiasm," Drake rolled his eyes.

"Sounds like a pretty big deal! I'm ready whenever you are, Fenton ol' buddy!" Launchpad said.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Launchpad?" Drake pointed at Launchpad's attire.

The pilot looked down at his jacket and grinned. "Oh, right. Formal is as formal does. Guess I'd better change..."

Five minutes later, Launchpad reemerged in a brown suit similar in color to his regular clothes, minus the scarf. He still sported an aviator cap, but the goggles were spotless and the leather polished. Launchpad finished adjusting his tie and frowned when he saw Drake standing there with a stubborn look on his face.

"Aren't you coming, Drake?" Launchpad asked, his tone hinting that it would hurt his feelings if Drake refused.

Drake didn't catch the hint. "Me? Go to a shindig for traveling junk? No thankyou..."

His voice trailed off as he caught sight of a vision descending his staircase. He must be dreaming. There was no way his Gosalyn would ever willingly dress up without major hounding and argument first. Yet there she was. Wearing a dark blue dress and Mary Janes, dragging a brush through her uncooperative pigtails, she hurried down the stairs. Pausing in front of her father, she gave him her brightest smile.

"It would be shame to waste such an opportunity for furthering my education on history, Dad."

Gosalyn pressed her brush into his hands and turned her back to him. As she'd expected, his hands automatically began smoothing the fiery locks. By the time he jolted out of his trance, Gosalyn had retrieved Drake's suit coat and tie from his closet and proffered it to him. Sighing, he went up to change, defeated.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, both father and daughter were regretting the decision. Not that the jewels, jewelry, coins, books, suits of armor, shields, tiki torch, stone idols, and such archaic junk wasn't interesting to look at. And the jar of Malaysian relish was certainly worth puzzling over.<p>

Nor was it a waste of time admiring the extravagant company they were with. The men were decked out in gold watches and jeweled cufflinks, and the ladies were wearing all their fancy bling. However, after ten minutes of gawking, everything began to grate on Drake's hyper-sensitized nerves. The bright lights, heady perfumes and colognes, the loud constant drone of conversation, the loud music, and especially the constant motion of the milling crowd.

Gosalyn was itching for something to do. She'd had more than enough pats on the head from strange ladies remarking how adorable she was. She was even more disgusted when those self-same ladies, upon finding out who she was with, turned their noses up. None of them bothered to venture polite conversation toward Drake, Fenton, or Launchpad.

Drake, of course, was already miserably looking for a reason to leave. But moving Launchpad away from a free meal was like herding cows off a street. Every time Drake thought he was making progress, Launchpad found another morsel he had to sample. And Scrooge had yet to make an entrance, thereby insuring the pilot stayed put.

By the time the mayor stepped up to the podium to announce Scrooge McDuck, Launchpad had already gone through three plates of hors d'oeuvres.

After the polite applause, Scrooge began his speech and took in his audience with a smile. His smile brightened when he spied Launchpad and he included the pilot in his introductions. After the audience applauded Launchpad's accomplishments, Scrooge got back to business. Launchpad elbowed Drake.

"Boy, Mr. McDee sure is somethin', eh Drake?"

"Yeah, something," Drake agreed unenthusiastically, jealous that his sidekick had more fame and accord than he did.

It rankled him even more that the audience listened to Scrooge with more than feigned interest and politeness. Scrooge was the shrewdest business man in the country, with a fair number of enemies, yet everyone acted like he was a movie star. For that matter, everybody in the room was treated with mincing respect and fawning flattery. About the only person in the room who wasn't at the receiving end of any attention was Fenton, and he at least had some social standing as McDuck's employee. Drake sighed.

Launchpad leaned over and whispered to Fenton.

"Hey, do ya think Mr. McDee will have time to chat after his speech?"

"Sure! He'll make time for you, old buddy! You might even catch Mr. McDuck back here at the buffet."

"Sounds good to me! I can always find my way around there! heh heh"

As Drake rolled his eyes, he caught a glimpse of someone sneaking away from the crowd. His suspicions aroused, Drake leaned close to Gosalyn.

"Cover for me if anyone notices. I need to check on something..." he whispered.

"A case?" Gosalyn brightened. "Hot dog! Where do we start?"

""We?" We are going nowhere! I need you to stay and keep an eye on things here in case he makes a break for it." Glancing back to see Launchpad scarfing yet another appetizer, he gestured his thumb toward his sidekick. "LP is too busy to watch my back at the moment and I may need crowd control."

Gosalyn had been about to object until she realized she'd been given a job to do. A boring one, but not without potential.

"Right. Keep my eyes open. Gotcha!" She gave a thumbs up and moved to a vantage point where she could watch the whole room.

"Well, that went over better than I thought. I'll have to remember that one for the future." Drake murmured to himself as he slipped around the crowd, veering toward the restroom.

Checking that there was no one in the stalls, Drake shed his suit coat and tie, stashing them carefully in a sealed bag and hiding it in the janitor closet in an apron pocket.

He wasn't wearing his teal turtleneck, but he had brought the rest of his costume in a pocket pouch. The only things he hadn't been able to carry were his bulky arsenal, such as the gas gun. He still had his cufflinks and microphone, which would summon... Oh. Right. The Ratcatcher was still in the repair bay at S.H.U.S.H.

No matter. He had all he needed with brains and brawn. And the mic would come in handy if he needed to call the authorities for major backup. Which hopefully wouldn't be necessary. Although he wouldn't mind a disaster of epic proportions, so to say, he'd prefer to handle this alone.

Already envisioning the headlines, Darkwing nearly missed his target. The cautious creeper was on the move again, nearly obscured behind a cave duck replica. Darkwing crept closer, taking care to stay out of sight from the crowd behind him. Nobody would know he was there until he revealed himself. Not even the crook would detect his presence until it was too late.

Darkwing smiled to himself. Let's see what ol' Scrooge had to say about HIM after he saved the crowd and the precious exhibit singlehandedly.

Following the tuxedo-clad avian into the Hall of Gems, St. Canard's yearlong exhibit, Darkwing spied the perpetrator eyeing the Canard Diamond. It was a stone as big as his fist, cut in the shape of a duck, and rumored to be the second biggest diamond in the world. The very same diamond Tuskernini had tried to steal over a year ago. Not exactly the smartest thing for a criminal to go after with literally a hundred people just in the other room, but who says criminals are intelligent?

The thief put on a glove and reached for the latch on the display. Darkwing made his grand entrance.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" he set off a smoke bomb to veil his approach.

A smoke alarm went off and the museum's marble halls echoed with voices. The perp spun around, but failed to find the source of the voice.

"I am the curator who spots a forgery a mile away! I am Darkwiiing Duck!"

Darkwing plowed a foot into the tuxedoed duck's stomach. The thief fell back into a glass display case. Darkwing caught him before he could fall through the glass, but the case was bumped nonetheless. It reeled side to side and slowly tipped into another.

Realizing his mistake, Darkwing ran a rope around the tilting cases and tried to pull them upright, but the stones and precious metal had rolled off their shelves, shifting all the weight to one side. Darkwing strained against the rope, visibly sweating in his battle against gravity.

Taking advantage of Darkwing's distraction, the thief got back on his feet and ran for the exit opposite from the galleria.

Darkwing lost his concentration.

"Hold it right there, Fiend!"

His palms slipped on the rope and the cases crashed to the floor. Security alarms added to the ruckus. Curious onlookers and guards rushed into the exhibit to see what the commotion was about. Darkwing had just caught up to the crook and brought him down with a flying web kick when Scrooge McDuck's infuriated voice rose above the rest.

"What's the meaning of all this!"

Darkwing smirked smugly and held the dizzy duck up by his collar.

"I believe this answers your question, Mr. McDuck. Behold, the foiled felon who's foul plans were flustered. I caught him going after the Canard Diamond!"

Although the news was met with some smiles among the crowd, Scrooge was not the least bit placated.

"You imbecile! That's the curator you've apprehended! I asked him to compare the Canard Diamond to the one I found at the center of the world!"

Darkwing blinked at his victim, finally seeing the id badge clipped to his pocket.

"The curator...?" he echoed hesitantly, wilting.

"Here's my identification, and the key to the display, Sir," the placid duck proffered the said items. "If I had known you were here, I would have gladly shown my credentials before all of this..." he gestured to the toppled cases, "could have happened."

"But why did you sneak away from the party? Anyone would have suspected you were up to no good from the way you skulked around the crowd!" Darkwing protested as he helped the man up to his feet. He was uncomfortably aware of camera flashes going off, indicating his mistake would be plastered all over the late night news and morning papers by the reporters covering the gala.

The curator simply shrugged. "I didn't want to interrupt anyone. Mr. McDuck was adamant that no one was to know I was in possession of the diamonds. He didn't want anyone questioning me before I had the results of my measurements."

"Oh," was the only response Darkwing could think of. "Well, please accept my apologies, good citizen and carry on with your duties while I..." he looked around, hoping to find something useful to do. "I..."

"While you take your things and go!" Scrooge gestured to the still smoking canister on the floor with a handkerchief he promptly pressed on his bill.

"You sure? I could help straighten up a bit..." Darkwing offered, wanting to present a better face for himself. He had met Scrooge once before, on much friendlier terms, and didn't want to lose Scrooge's respect. For the moment, though, Scrooge was all business.

"GO!" Scrooge jumped up and down in a fit.

Darkwing backed away automatically. Seeing outrage, mockery, and shock on thirty faces staring at him from the hallway, Darkwing deflated. Obediently retrieving his rope from under the broken glass and his dying smoke bomb, Darkwing jogged to the emergency exit, adding another alarm on top of the two already blaring.

He was half way to the station wagon in the parking lot when he remembered he had arrived as Drake Mallard. Sighing, he went back to the main entrance and, after strategically placing several smoke bombs in front of the security cameras, he ducked quickly through the lobby. Grabbing an over coat from the cloak room, he crossed to the rest room and retrieved his coat and tie from the janitor's closet. Taking advantage of the distraction the alarms provided, he rejoined the crowd and tapped Launchpad' and Gosalyn's shoulders.

Understanding Drake's gesture toward the door, Launchpad maneuvered through the crowd to seek out his pal Fenton. The accountant was in the gem exhibit, making sure every ounce of precious metal and every stone was present, with Scrooge hovering nearby, making apologies to the gentry. Fenton said something in reply to Launchpad's question and the pilot rejoined his family.

"Fenton said he'll catch a taxi, so we can go on home," Launchpad said cordially.

"How thoughtful," Drake grouched, marching to the cloak room to retrieve everyone's overcoats.

They drove home in silence, Gosalyn and Launchpad wisely keeping their thoughts and questions to themselves as Drake nursed his hurt pride. As soon as they got back to the house, Drake took the chairs to Darkwing Tower, where he could seethe in peace. Knowing he would be alright for a little while, Gosalyn and Launchpad went to their rooms to settle in and wait.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, back at the museum, the curator sat behind the locked door of his office, the lights dimmed and the phone off the hook. After weighing and measuring both diamonds as Scrooge had requested, the duck tucked Scrooge's diamond back in its velvet lined box. The other diamond was settled into its own box and slipped into the waste basket under his desk.<p>

Surreptitiously glancing out the window and at the crack under the door for shadows, the duck pulled out a Go phone he had purchased with cash from some street vendor on the other side of town. Dialing a number from a slip of paper he produced from his pocket, the duck waited for the call to go through, then left a message.

"It's time to take out the trash."

Hanging up, the duck tossed the phone in the waste basket and covered it with several wadded up fliers announcing Scrooge's traveling exhibit. Packing up to leave, he retrieved the Canard Diamond from his desk and locked his office behind him. Nobody could tell the difference between the glass facsimile and the original, now waiting for pickup.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note: There is more action later in this chapter, but I included a scene between Scrooge and Launchpad here for two purposes. One was to have Scrooge meet Drake, and the other was to incorporate the show "Quackpack" into the "Ducktales" and "Darkwing Duck" time continuum. This means the nephews are older than Gosalyn, and as such, will not be making an appearance._

* * *

><p>An hour later, Fenton straightened from sweeping up the glass and separating every grain of value from the shards. Dumping the glass in a bucket and placing the last speck of gold dust in a box containing all the displaced samples, Fenton turned and found his employer chatting with the curator at the opposite end of the room. Handing over the dustpan to the janitor, he moved to a polite distance and waited for Scrooge to finish his business.<p>

"Ah, good evening, Sir. Here is your diamond." The curator handed over the black jewelry box. Scrooge accepted it and followed him to the Canard Diamond display case, watching him place the duck jewel on its stand.

"So, which one turned out to be bigger? My diamond or that one?" Scrooge asked.

"Yours, actually."

"Hee hee. That's more like it. I'll be sure to give it a place of honor in my exhibit."

"Of course, it is more common than the Canard Diamond…" the curator sniffed.

"Common! There's nothing common about where I found it!"

"Granted. But it lacks total clarity and the cut is less than perfect. I've seen better facets on costume jewelry."

"Clarity! Are you sure, man? Maybe your eyeglass is dirty!" Scrooge's tone said he was quite certain the curator was wrong.

"I assure you, Sir, my equipment is in pristine shape. You can see for yourself if you hold it against a black backdrop. There's a faint cloud in the center of the stone. Don't be too disappointed, Mr. McDuck. You could of course have the flaw cut out. It would make a splendid set of matched earrings…"

"Thanks, but I think I'll keep it as it is for a souvenir." Scrooge shook his hand, tipping his hat as he turned toward Fenton. The pleasant smile he reserved for customers faded into a scowl as he turned around.

"Well?" Scrooge asked Fenton irritably.

"Everything's accounted for, Mr. McDuck," Fenton replied. "The museum can reopen the exhibit once the display cases are replaced. And I've already checked your section, Sir. All there!"

"Good." Scrooge arched an eyebrow thoughtfully. "I don't suppose Giz'maduck saw anything unusual tonight either?"

"Aside from the incident, nothing. I was hanging out with Launchpad."

"Awk! I almost forgot! I was goin' to say hello after ma speech! I don't suppose he's hanging around the buffet still?"

"He headed home with his friends. I was planning on spending the night with them, but if you need me, I'll get a room at a hotel." Fenton offered, hoping that his boss would not choose the latter. Downtown St. Canard was not exactly on the cheap spectrum as far as hotels went. As he'd hoped, Scrooge was weighing the benefits of a free room versus hotel fare.

"Hmm. I was thinking of canceling my reservation at the "Drake." Do ya think Launchpad has room to spare for another visitor?"

"Uh, that's kind of a delicate subject, Mr. McDuck." Fenton sweated. "While I'm sure Launchpad would love to have you over for a visit, he doesn't own the house."

"Well who does?"

"His friend, Drake Mallard. And, well, Drake is a different sort of guy from Launchpad."

"Oh? How so?"

Fenton scuffed his toes on the coarse carpet.

"Well, he doesn't like me, for starters…" he admitted reluctantly.

Scrooge's response was brutally honest. "Who could blame him? I dinna like you at first!"

Fenton recoiled, but that revelation was nothing new to him, so he chose to ignore it.

"Plus Launchpad normally works nights…"

"A night job?" Scrooge exclaimed. "Why would Launchpad do that?"

"He pilots for Darkwing Duck, remember?"

"Why of all the... Ah. Now I remember. He told me so himself last year. So much happened, then, I had forgotten... I wonder, where does he land the plane...?"

Fenton saw Scrooge shake his head in remembrance, probably thinking of the many crashes he'd survived with the pilot and the damages he'd had to pay for over the years. Scrooge stared into the distance, tapping his cane thoughtfully on the linoleum, lost in the memory. Fenton could sympathize. They had both been part of a huge event last year, along with most of St. Canard's guardians. Being locked up in a semi by the most dangerous criminals in the world, reuniting with old friends, making new ones, and struggling to reclaim the city... Scrooge smiled, breaking Fenton's reverie.

"Ah, too bad Darkwing had to mess up in front of everyone tonight, of all nights. I can understand why the city has a poor opinion of him if he costs the people money every time he makes a mistake."

"Yeah," Fenton agreed. "Still, I can sympathize. It's hard work being a superhero, but it's even harder to keep people happy. Personally, I don't blame Darkwing for jumping to conclusions tonight. If I hadn't known better, I might have done the same thing myself."

"Aye," Scrooge said crossly. "And I'd be footing the bill for damages to half the museum. The suit isn't made to work in close quarters like this..." Gesturing with his hands at the narrow aisles weaving around free-standing displays and glass walls, his eyes landed on the Canard Diamond again. He stared at it pensively, until he noticed Fenton watching him.

He pressed Fenton for more information on Darkwing. "Just where do ya suppose the man came from? I dinna notice anyone present that mighta been him. Aside from Launchpad an' the wee lass, I'd have thought it a coincidence. Do ya think he was one of the guests?"

"It's a possibility, Sir. Gizmoduck probably isn't the only person with a secret identity."

"Aye." Scrooge straightened his hat and marched out of the room. "Come along, Fenton. It's been a long, disappointing day. Maybe I could get Launchpad to fly me home on his way out tonight..."

* * *

><p>Later, at the Mallard residence…<p>

Scrooge and Launchpad were catching up in the living room, with Fenton listening politely and Gosalyn chomping at the bit with questions. As it was a little after seven, Gosalyn was eager to milk every minute she could, hoping she could delay bedtime. Eight o'clock was way too early for weekends, especially for a ten year old.

Gosalyn was thrilled to have the richest duck in the world in her home and once she got a chance, she peppered him with questions. One of her first was "Do you like kids" and her last was "Would you be interested in a car wash? All the proceeds go to the St. Canard Elementary Hockey team for travel and equipment expenses..."

Scrooge took her seriously, unlike most adults, and he seemed to like talking with her. He politely answered her when he could get a word in edgewise, and commented on how she reminded him of his nephews. Then his expression got melancholy and he slouched into the cushions.

Fenton sensed that Scrooge wanted some quiet time, so he asked Gosalyn to show him her hero scrapbook. She offered to bring it down to share with all of the guys, but Fenton tactfully herded her to her room with the reminder that Scrooge wouldn't like to be reminded of Darkwing Duck so soon after the gala. Gosalyn sobered and agreed, although she reminded Fenton her scrapbook had news clippings of Gizmoduck, too. Fenton was more than happy to share the memories with her, especially the articles on Gizmoduck.

While the duck and girl were safely occupied, Launchpad and Scrooge sat in momentary silence, Launchpad in one of the blue chairs, Scrooge on the couch. Although Launchpad could make make light of any awkward social moment, he had spent too much time with Darkwing not to notice when someone was depressed.

"Anything I can help ya with, Mister McDee?" he asked gently.

"_Sigh_. Nothin' much. I'm just a tad lonely nowadays." Scrooge leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, holding his head.

"Awww," Launchpad smiled. "If I'd a known you missed me that much, I would have flown by and picked you up at home! Just like old times, heh heh heh."

"Flown...?" Scrooge looked up. "Ah, yes I'd almost forgotten. Could you fly me home tonight, Launchpad? I don't feel much like staying at a hotel."

"Sure thing, Mr. McDee. I'll fly ya back in no time! Just…ah, let me call Darkwing first. He'll want ta know what I'm doin' with his plane."

Scrooge looked puzzled by this. "But I thought you owned your own hanger."

"I did. Still do. Two, as a matter of fact. I'm looking after my sister's hangar too. But I know you want to get to Duckburg before the kiddies go to bed, so we'll need something fast. And there ain't nothing faster than the ol' Thunder Quack. Except military jets and all that..."

Scrooge sighed heavily at the mention of the kids and slouched further. "They're not stayin' with me anymore."

Launchpad broke off to stare blankly at his former employer. "Who?"

"The boys. They moved back in with their uncle Donald a while back."

Launchpad was flabbergasted for the moment. "But I thought they'd always be there..."

"I was just a temporary guardian, Lad. Never meant to be more. And Donald was discharged from the Navy with a comfortable pay check and a job in Mousetown. I believe Daisy is living with him, too. Makes a nice family environment for the boys. Huey, Dewey, and Louie are starting high school next year..."

"High school! Whoa! How did they grow up so fast? Why, I remember the first time I met them! Say, does that mean Mrs. Beakley and Webbigal...?"

"Aye, Lad. Though I see them most every weekend still. Webby's going to school in another town and Mrs. Beakley is working as a substitute teacher there. From what ah've seen, they're both quite happy. I'm just privileged they stayed with me as long as they did, since the boys dinna need them this last year or so. Awk, I miss them all. Especially Mrs. Beakley's cooking..."

"Gee, I'm real sorry, Mr. McDee. I wish I'd known sooner. Just say the word and I'll be over there visiting you any time you want. We could fly around the world..."

"No thanks, Lad. I appreciate the offer, but I've seen enough of the world already. And I dinna mean to make you feel sorry for me, either. It's just, seeing you again, and being 'round that little girl reminded me of how it used to be..."

"Say, what about Bubba and Tootsie? I thought they'd stay with you forever! And how's Doofus? Isn't he coming over anymore?"

"Bubba and Tootsie are living with their own kind now. Tootsie was fine when she was a baby, but now she's full grown, and a Triceratops that big needs plenty of foraging room. As much as Bubba wanted to be near me, he agreed that Tootsie would be better off in their own land and he stayed with her. The kids all said their goodbyes and parted ways... I was going to hire you to fly us then, but all I got was your answering machine..." Scrooge raised his brow. Launchpad shrugged. "I still see Doofus now and then, but he primarily hangs out with Gyro. And he's changing too. His voice is deeper, he's taller, and, believe it or not, he's gotten thinner too!"

"No way! Doofus, thin?" Launchpad rubbed his eyes, trying to picture the chubby duckling as an adolescent. The image evaded him.

"Aye. It seems Fenton, Gyro, Duckworth, and I are the only ones not doing any changing. Why, even you have changed over the years, Launchpad. You've gotten stronger. And more confident, too. It's like you've matured some..."

Launchpad blushed and chuckled.

"Gee, thanks, Mr. McDee. I guess hanging around Drake, Gosalyn, and Darkwing did all that. Being with them is hard work. Kind of like leading the Junior Woodchucks on a camping trip, flying across the ocean, and being a spy for the DIA* all at once! But I wouldn't change it for the world. They're my family, just as you and the kids are."

(*Author's Note: This references the DT episode "Double O'Duck," where Launchpad played a spy for the Duckburg Intelligence Agency.)

Scrooge smiled weakly. "Thanks, Laddie. I'm verra glad to see you happy, Launchpad. You deserve it, for putting up with me all these years if for nothing else. And I may take you up on that travel offer someday.

"For now, I'm content to just settle back into me ol' routine. Swimming in me money, taking a brisk stroll every morning, consulting me businesses, managing finances, coordinating fundraisers, counting me money, and talking to relatives. Though I was sad to see the boys go, they visit me often enough and I go to all their sporting events and fundraisers. And I've been in touch with my nephew Gladstone Gander, and my dear Goldie. She finally got a phone and has been calling me every night afore bed. I may be able to talk her into coming to Duckburg someday, and then, who knows what will happen?"

The lights started flashing suddenly. Launchpad bolted out of his chair. Scrooge stared until Launchpad seized his wrist and hauled him off the couch.

"Launchpad! What are ya doing?"

"Sorry Mr. McDee, but we...uh, you see that was the...burglar alarm! Yeah! And we need to get away from the windows..." Launchpad dragged Scrooge into the kitchen, out of sight of the living room.

"Burglar alarm?" Scrooge sputtered, craning his head under the pilot's arm. "Windows? There's windows in here, ya dunderhead! Now what's going on and what are you hiding? I can smell a lie a mile away!"

Before Launchpad could make things worse, they heard the slight hum from the spinning chairs. Moments later, Drake peeked into the kitchen.

"Launchpad? What..." Drake caught sight of Scrooge staring back at him and went momentarily slack-jawed. Catching himself, he held out his hand. "Mr. McDuck, what a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect to find you here..." he raised a meaningful eyebrow at his sidekick as the duck hesitantly shook his hand.

"Have we met?" Scrooge asked, his own eyebrow arched as he studied the large-billed mallard through his glasses.

"Huh? Oh, not exactly. I was at the gala tonight, but we didn't have opportunity to exchange greetings," Drake said.

"Yes, I remember you now. I never forget a face... You were standing with Launchpad and the wee lass, whom ah've already met..."

Drake smiled. "I apologize for anything my daughter might have said or done that offended you. She tends to get carried away..."

"Nonsense!" Scrooge retorted, puffing out his chest indignantly. "She did me a favor! She made me feel young again, listening to her spirited chatter... Reminded me of me own dear nephews..."

Tactfully intervening before Scrooge could wander too far down memory lane, Launchpad officially introduced his best friend to his old employer. Drake offered Scrooge a seat in the living room again and Scrooge stiffened.

"What about the "burglar" alarm? The lights were flashing a moment ago..." he asked warily.

Drake smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I'm afraid I set it off by using the wrong key in the front door."

Although that was a good reply, Scrooge was still suspicious.

"Why rig the lights to flash just in that room? What good does that do ya at night?"

Unfazed, Drake smiled again and explained.

"It's not actually a burglar alarm so much as an alert for my daughter when somebody's at the door. Sometimes, when she's got her music cranked up, she doesn't hear the doorbell. The lights catch her attention even when she's napping on the couch."

Although the real reason for the alert was to give anybody sitting in the chairs a chance to move out of the way, Drake's explanation was truthful and Scrooge could find little flaw in the reasoning. Having had six teenagers running amok in his mansion, Scrooge well understood the use of a visual aid.

"So, what other measures have ya takin'? I'll bet you've picked up a thing or two from Darkwing Duck, bein' with his sidekick and all…" he stated matter-of-factly.

Drake blanched. "Duh DDDarkwing? Why would I have anything to do with him?"

Scrooge narrowed his eyes. "Because you're living with his two biggest fans! Surely you two have something besides that in common!"

"Heh heh," Drake tugged on his collar nervously. "Never met him."

"Really? How did you meet Launchpad, then?"

"I..." Drake glanced at the pilot, who shrugged in reply. "I crashed into his hangar."

"How on earth did ya do that?" Scrooge was still piqued.

"Well, I…" Drake fumbled.

"He fell out of a plane straight through the roof!" Launchpad supplied. It was the truth, even if it omitted a few details.

"And ended up hitching a ride back with him…" Drake supplemented. "Although at the time I would have preferred a taxi…"

Scrooge grinned. "Aye. It would have been safer…" Seeing Launchpad's feelings hurt, Scrooge amended his comment. "Safer taking a ride home versus going back in the plane you fell out of in the first place. I would have fired that pilot in a heartbeat!"

Drake chuckled nervously. "Yeah. Well, Launchpad got me back in one piece and we struck a chord. And both of us adore Gosalyn. So, he helps me out with babysitting during my work hours, and I provide room and board."

"Yep. And a bowling partner…" Launchpad added.

"Is that where you work?" Scrooge asked Drake. Drake fumbled for a moment.

"Um, no. It's what we do when Gos is spending the night at a friend's. I'm... More of a freelance writer…"

"Indeed. Seems to be paying the bills if you can afford to rig your electricity like that…" Scrooge pointed his cane at the lamp next to the couch.

"Well, I'm also sort of a neighborhood handyman and general electrician…"

"Electrician…" Scrooge stroked his bill thoughtfully. "How are you with security alarms…?"

"Heh heh. One of the best around," Launchpad bragged happily. Drake eyed him, warning him not to go too far, and cleared his throat.

"I can work my way around most circuit boxes, but I'm not a professional, if that's what you're asking…" Drake tried to steer the conversation away from his talents. The last thing he needed was for Scrooge to put the pieces together and figure out his identity. Scrooge had other ideas.

"I'm not asking. I'm requesting. I have Giz'maduck on patrol most days, but mah money is still vulnerable. I've hired the best electricians, inventors, and security technicians around, but the Beagle Boys and Magica DeSpell still find ways around my locks and traps. What I need is a fresh pair of eyes and ingenuity. Something nobody in their right minds would think up, but simple enough that it doesn't raise my power bills…"

"Sounds like you need a superhero, Mr. McDee…" Launchpad said, with a sideways glance to gauge Drake's reaction. Drake's fingers inched toward his scarf, but Scrooge was mulling over his words.

"What a brilliant idea, Launchpad!"

"Come again?" the pilot blinked. Drake's jaw dropped.

"That's exactly the kind of ingenuity I need! Heh heh! Why, with the right persuasion, I might not even need to pay him!" Scrooge was seeing dollar signs from the possibilities. "Launchpad. Call Darkwing and have him meet me at me money bin tomorrow morning at 8:30. Or, come to think of, make that at night. Let him get the feel of it. If he's as clever as I think, he'll make me money bin foolproof, without locking me out of it! And he'll be able to make it up to me for spoiling tonight's dinner."

Drake's expressions flashed between annoyance, pride, and, at the last remark, embarrassment.

Scrooge yawned and stretched. "Ahh. I think I'll take me room at the "Drake" after all. I suppose I'll get Fenton to drive me there..."

"No sweat, Mr. McDee. I'll drive ya..." Launchpad fished the key for the station wagon out of his pocket. Drake scowled, but Scrooge beamed.

"Why thank you, Launchpad." Scrooge doffed his top hat with a flourish at Drake. "It was nice meeting you... Mallard, wasn't it? Drake Mallard?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, that's me. Um, nice meeting you too, Mr. McDuck. Always good to see one of Launchpad's friends..." Drake followed them to the garage, watching to make sure Launchpad didn't break one of the side view mirrors while backing out. Once they were safely down the road, he sullenly paced the kitchen.

"Who does he think he is, ordering me around in my own home! So what if he has a few bajillion dollars to his name? I'm not a lap dog! I'm Darkwing Du..."

Drake froze with his hand poised in the air as he heard footsteps descending the stair case. He peeked around the corner and startled Fenton.

"Ah! Oh, hiya Drake! Just get back from somewhere? I didn't see you after the party..."

"Um, something disagreed with me," Drake fumbled, holding his stomach. "I went out to restock the medicine cabinet."

"Sorry I asked..." Fenton mumbled to himself. To Drake he said, "Well glad you're feeling better, Buddy. So, did Mr. McDuck talk Launchpad into flying him or is he staying at a hotel?"

"They just left for the hotel. McDuck changed his mind a moment ago," Drake said dismissively.

Fenton yawned. "Well, it's been quite a day. I think I'm ready to head up. G'Night, Drake."

Drake smiled lightly and replied likewise.

Fenton had just set foot on the landing when a phone started ringing. Both looked at each other and around the room, but it wasn't the house line. Gosalyn called over the stair rail.

"Mr. Crackshell, your briefcase is ringing!"

"Briefcase?" Drake arched an eyebrow. "Why would your cell phone be in there?"

Fenton hurried up the stairs, sweat gleaming on his brow. "That's my emergency number. In case Ma'ma needs to get a hold of me..." he called over his shoulder as he rushed into his room, slamming the door behind him.

"Again... Why would it be in a briefcase...?" Drake asked no one in particular.

Gosalyn heard him and shrugged.

Drake glanced at his watch. "Well, it's after eight. You know what that means...," he raised a brow at Gosalyn.

She pointed to her pajamas to show she was already prepared. Drake smiled appreciatively, glad he wasn't going to have to chase her to bed tonight. He went up to tuck her in, overhearing a few words from the guest room down at the end of the hall behind the last door.

"You've got to be kidding!" Fenton practically shouted. "Alright, I'm on my way."

Fenton peeked in at Gosalyn and Drake a few seconds later.

"Sorry. Gotta run! Don't know when I'll be back. Night, Gos. Thanks for everything, Drakeroonie!"

With that he was gone, stumbling down the stairs with his luggage bumping along behind him. Drake and Gosalyn stared after him until they heard the front door slam. Drake grimaced at the noise.

"Wonder what that was all about?" Gosalyn said curiously.

"I don't know and I don't care," Drake said. "As long as he's out of my feathers. Imagine, inviting someone like Scrooge McDuck into my house without asking permission, or giving a heads up. The nerve of some people..."

"Actually, it was a quite a compliment to us..." Gosalyn piped, obediently pulling up the covers when Drake stared at her. "He brought the richest duck in the world to our house without doing a security sweep or anything like that. He trusted us. And Mr. McDuck was cool. We got along swell."

"You're right. It was an honor, even if it was a bit of a surprise. And Launchpad got him out of the living room in time for me to arrive. Although, if I had been a little less tired from our exceptionally loong day, I would have checked home surveillance before barging in like that."

Momentarily forgetting that her dad's day was continuing on the tail of last night, and thinking of tonight's fiasco, Gosalyn smirked at him.

"Yeah. Busting a fake robbery. Real tiring."

Drake smiled back with forced patience.

"Thanks, Ms. Optimism. Good night, Dear." he smooched her forehead and hugged her. She returned the hug.

"Night, Dad. Love you."

"Love you too, Kiddo. Sleep tight."

Drake closed the door partially, as he always did. He was very tempted to go straight to bed, but he knew rest would evade him as long as his mind was running full steam. And, between his observations of Fenton and his concerns over Negaduck, he had plenty to occupy him. He went to his concealed office behind the living room wall and ran a few searches on his computer. He frowned at the results and filed the info. away for future pondering.

While he was sitting there, an alert from the tower crime monitor and police scanner popped up on screen and he sighed. It was almost ten but there had already been another jewelry store theft. He thought about letting the police handle it, but remembering last night's encounter with Negaduck, he chose not to chance fate. The police were helpless against the master criminal and Darkwing still had to figure out what his dubious doppelgänger was up to.

Running upstairs to grab a spare costume, he noticed Gosalyn peeking out of her room. He told her he was going out, and to call Morgana or the Muddlefoots if she needed anything. He also reiterated the importance of going to school on time, forgetting tomorrow was Saturday and traditionally his day off with Gosalyn. She asked to go along, as usual, and he refused.

Darkwing Duck was off in no time, parking the rebuilt Hoverquack in front of the jewelry store. The police were already there.

"Good evening, Officers. What seems to be the problem here?" Darkwing said haughtily, as though he already knew the answers and had asked merely out of amusement.

The detective in charge scowled. "Just the average break in. Hardly a matter of interest to you, Darkwing."

"I'll be the judge of that, Detective. For example, I detect the faint essence of an expensive cologne. Similar to English Feather." Darkwing cruised the counters with his magnifying glass in hand, back stooped so that his beak was mere inches above the carpet.

The canine detective was unimpressed. "So? Lots of people come here every day, and the store owner wears that stuff."

"Not this particular cologne." Darkwing sniffed and followed the faint cloud to its highest concentration over the ravaged wedding band display. He inhaled slowly, sifting through the scents as carefully as a hound and smirked. How he loved showing off.

"You see, Gentlemen, while the average nouveau riche show off their accoutrements and ample accounts with expensive, imported Eau de Toilette, the true tycoon seeks to develop his own signature scent. This particular fragrance has a hint of a plant I recognize (from my extensive travels abroad) as wild mountain thyme. My keen nostrils also detect strong hints of wool, pipe smoke, and whiskey in the mix. It is too recent to be from a customer, as I see the store closed two hours ago." Darkwing nodded toward the sign in the window. "And I see from the photo on the business card, the owner is of Oilrabia descent. Not someone who would typically be inclined toward a cold weather shrub. And I may be mistaken, but I believe I also detect a hint of woodbine, heather, and feather conditioner. Again, these elements would be of little to no interest to our canine owner... Now, take all these peculiar odors together and what does that tell you?" Darkwing didn't wait for the detective to reply. "The wearer of this cologne is none other than an avian of Scottish descent!"

"Like me?" Scrooge McDuck's voice called from behind him. Darkwing spun around and saw Launchpad and Scrooge standing in the doorway. Gizmoduck was nearby questioning an officer. Darkwing scowled at sight of the superhero. Scrooge ignored him and entered the store.

"What do you make of this, Detective? How much did I lose?" Scrooge pointedly asked the detective in charge.

"You!" Darkwing started, interrupting the officer. "What do you mean you lost? I thought your interests here were vested in McDuck Jewelers..."

In answer, Scrooge pointed his cane at the McDuck insignia on the carpet. Glancing around, Darkwing saw other examples of Scrooge's ownership from a certificate on the wall behind the empty desk, the trademark dollar sign in the name of the store, plus the business cards scattered on the floor. Darkwing tugged on his collar uncomfortably.

The detective smirked and dutifully gave his report to Scrooge. Darkwing tuned them out by turning to Launchpad.

"I thought you were dropping him off!" he hissed, gesturing to Scrooge's back.

"Sorry DW, but Gizmoduck called us just as we were pulling up in front of the hotel. The bossman ordered me to turn around, so I did. So, what did you find out?" Launchpad changed the subject cheerfully, hoping that Darkwing wouldn't stay mad.

Darkwing raised an eyebrow, but obligingly filled him in with his observations. Launchpad praised his keen senses, carefully inflating his ego. Darkwing might have gone on with his tale, but he was distracted by Gizmoduck zipping back and forth across the premises. Unable to ignore the sound of Gizmo's motor buzzing past him every couple of seconds, Darkwing confronted him.

"What do you think you are doing? The racetrack is the next town over!"

"Sorry Darkwing, no time for chitchat," Giz replied as he once again zipped by. "I'm fixing the place up so the manager can open shop tomorrow."

Gizmo's gadgets were busy hammering nails, cutting a new sheet of glass to size for the displays, and vacuuming the floor. Darkwing blew up.

"Have you gone crazy! You're destroying evidence! You can't just mop up a crime scene! The police..." he looked around to see if anyone agreed with him and, to his surprise, found that the police were driving off. Even the crime scene tape had been removed. Darkwing's rage was forgotten in his confusion. "What? Nobody processes a scene that fast! They couldn't have just up and left! It's...it's..."

"Criminal!" Launchpad said.

"Right! It's criminal! And completely unfair! Why do my cases take hours or days to process when..."

"No! I, I mean "criminal!"" Launchpad pointed out the door.

A figure in a black ski mask was peering inside, but the moment Darkwing looked at him, the stranger fled. Darkwing's eyes narrowed.

"Oh no you don't!" Leaping the distance to the door, Darkwing whipped out his gas gun and knelt to steady his aim. "I've been up over forty hours and I am not going to sleep soundly until I've seen at least one scoundrel in the slammer!"

The stranger looked over his shoulder and changed direction just as Darkwing fired. The canister flew harmlessly past the figure, but it bounced off a wall and landed at the person's feet. He started coughing and waving his arms, his voice deep and raspy. He lifted his ski mask just enough to clear his bill.

"I have you now, villain! Surrender, or face the wrath of the Winged Wonder!" Darkwing easily caught up to the black-clad duck with a cartwheel and landed gracefully on his feet a yard away.

The duck tried to flee but Darkwing cut off his escape. The avian held up his fists and Darkwing had to laugh. This guy left so many openings in his stance, it was pointless to engage. Drawing himself up to fold his arms across his chest scornfully, Darkwing looked down his long bill at the stranger.

"If you're looking for a boxing match, go find a ring. I have better things to do than entertain your pitiful notion of self defense."

Instead of exchanging banter with him, the duck lowered his head and charged, bowling into Darkwing's stomach and stomping on both his feet. Darkwing yelped and hopped in place. The attack was nothing like he had expected. The stranger further complicated things by straightening abruptly to head-butt him in the jaw.

Darkwing shook off the ensuing dizziness brought on by the hit and collected himself quickly. Before the trespasser could escape, Darkwing's broad foot connected with the duck's back. The stranger gasped and fell on his face, wheezing from the impact. Darkwing brushed his hands off proudly.

"I love it when they fall like that... Let this be a lesson to you, Stranger! None can match the might of the Masked Mallard!"

The fallen fiend was too busy coughing to reply.

Gizmoduck drove up. Darkwing didn't bother to lift his head up from his triumphant pose.

"Ah, you're just in time, Giz. I don't suppose you've a spare set of handcuffs on you..."

"Plenty," Gizmo opened a compartment to reveal about a dozen manacles on pegs. Bending to bind the duck, he turned to Darkwing. "Did you gas this poor miscreant or do they always cough like this?"

"Eh, eh, eh," Darkwing straightened his jacket. "Lets just say, he's had a small sampling of my expertise."

The duck was still coughing, his gasps rattling in his chest.

"I think this man needs a doctor," Gizmo said with concern, abandoning the handcuffs in favor of propping the duck upright and holding an oxygen mask over the gasping thief's bill.

"He'll be fine," Darkwing said dismissively, although his brow wrinkled with a little concern. Scrooge and Launchpad jogged up.

"Should we call 9-11?" Launchpad asked.

"Ha! Perish the thought! We'll take him to the police for questioning in the ol' Rat..." Darkwing grimaced. "I mean the Hoverquack, and inform them I solved the case they so readily abandoned. This is the thief responsible for the robbery."

"How did you come to that conclusion so quickly?" Scrooge asked warily. "For all we know he was just taking an evening stroll and his beak got cold..." he pointed to the thief's mask.

"Easy," Darkwing said lightly, his tone indicating that he was enjoying himself immensely. "I can place him at the crime scene with this..." Wrapping his hand in his cape to avoid leaving prints, Darkwing drew a screwdriver out of the fiend's pocket. "Observe, this Phillips Head is precisely the same size as the bolts on the door frame, which was the thief's point of entry. And it's also likely this same screwdriver was used to break the glass of the display cases. Plus," Darkwing sniffed delicately in the thief's direction. "This man smells exactly like the cologne and cigar smoke I identified in the store."

"Whoa! I'm impressed!" Launchpad said. "I wish I could smell that good..." He frowned as he imagined what it would be like tracking something by its scent. It would come in handy for finding food, but he was pretty sure he didn't want to smell criminals on the run.

Darkwing bowed to an imaginary applause. "Thank you. Thank you. And now, let us unmask this unworthy underdog and find out what bandit is beneath all that black."

Darkwing approached Gizmo and the suspect. The duck glared at the good guys and jumped to his feet. He grabbed the oxygen mask from Gizmo and twisted the cord around Darkwing, Scrooge, and Launchpad, fleeing as they fell. Gizmo grabbed the fiend with an extended arm.

"Stop! Before I am forced to use force!"

The duck jabbed a pen into the glove, tripping some of the circuits in the gizmo, and took off, disappearing down a dark alley. He coughed a couple more times, each one sounding further away.

Darkwing struggled underneath Launchpad. The cord was too tight for any of the three to slip out of without cutting it. Darkwing saw the thief run and yelled.

"He's getting away! Gizmoduck! Do something!"

"And so I shall!" Gizmo said triumphantly, removing the damaged limb and tucking it into an empty suit compartment to work on later. A satellite dish popped out of his helmet and the computer console lit up with radar. "I've activated my sonar tracking device. No one with a cough that bad will be able to escape my hearing."

"I meant help me out of this mess!" Darkwing growled, trying to get Launchpad's elbow off of his face. Scrooge was likewise squirming and complaining on top of Launchpad, making it impossible for the larger duck to move without hurting one of his friends.

Gizmo easily snipped the thin plastic tube with scissors and helped Scrooge up. Without waiting for Launchpad to move, Darkwing wriggled out from under him, kicked off the rest of the cord, and sprang into the Hoverquack parked nearby.

"Hey DW! Wait up!" Launchpad cried as he grappled with what was left of the cord.

Darkwing ignored him and punched the gas pedal, roaring around a street corner.

Gizmoduck helped Launchpad up. "Sorry, gentlemen, but my fellow hero needs backup, and I intend to help whether he wants it or not," he said courteously to both ducks.

Scrooge dusted off his sleeves. "No apologies needed, Lad. Just bring him and the blighter responsible for all this back in one piece."

Gizmo saluted and sped off.

Scrooge turned to Launchpad. "I suppose you need to be going now, too."

"Nah. DW doesn't need me right now. Besides, the Hoverquack is only built for one person. I'm not sure what he'll do when he catches the crook."

"You really believe that masked duck was the thief like Darkwing said?" Scrooge asked.

"Well, DW always says the amateurs and the master minds like to return to the scene of the crime, so yeah. I believe it." Launchpad leaned closer to confide in Scrooge's ear. "It's the ones who don't that you have to watch out for, 'cause they could pop up anywhere. Anyway, I'll take ya back to your room and catch up with DW later."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Darkwing was getting ready to tear his feathers out.<p>

Shortly after Darkwing caught up to him, thief left the sidewalk for a parking garage. Darkwing followed him as far as he could, only to find that the duck had jimmied the door and slipped inside an office complex. Darkwing went around to another entrance and lost him.

No amount of backtracking led to further clues. Even the thief's tracks on the sidewalk were of no use. The shoe tread looked like any number of tracks left by passersby. The only other lead Darkwing might have been able to follow was an audio one, but the tell-tale coughing and wheezing had stopped, suggesting the thief had gone into hiding.

Darkwing didn't mind searching for clues, but he hated it when there was nothing to start with. If the thief had had the foresight to leave a set of civilian clothes easily accessible somewhere, and gotten his cough under control, he could walk right under Darkwing's beak and the crime fighter would be none the wiser. Although, Darkwing was pretty sure that smell would give the thief away. It was distinctive enough, he could pick it out in a crowd. Not that he would want to walk around smelling a crowd... Phew! Not everybody was as meticulous and conscientious as the Midnight Mallard. Darkwing winced at the thought of unwashed underarms and halitosis. Yech!

As Darkwing pondered these insignificant things out loud, he continued to impatiently wander the sidewalks with his eye glued to his magnifying glass. Then he became aware of another distinct smell... Ugh! Garbage... And, was that motor oil?

Moments later, he heard the undeniable sound of an approaching headache.

"Gimme a break...!" Darkwing groaned. "Can't you take the night off?" He spun around to face Gizmoduck. The titanium titan held up his hand to ward off the oncoming insults.

"Hold on a sec... My sonar is picking up something coming from this direction..." Gizmoduck veered away from the apartment complex toward the shopping mall.

"Oh yeah?" Darkwing raised his brow sarcastically. "Getting the weather report, perhaps?"

"I got it, I got it! It's him! He went this way!" Gizmo sped down the street.

"Hey, wait a second! I'm the hero in this town!" Darkwing protested. When Gizmo showed no sign of halting, Darkwing hooked onto his suit with his grappling iron and reeled himself onto the shoulder bars. "Let me make myself perfectly clear! I don't need your help, but if you're going to continue getting in the way, you will do as I say or else go home! Do you understand!"

"Of course, Darkwing. I was going to suggest... Uh, something along those lines..." Gizmo stammered before using his hero voice and straightening. "Stick with me, Wingy, and villains everywhere will quake in horror!"

"Or laughter..." Darkwing muttered softly to himself. He still didn't see Gizmoduck as the hero type. Just an ordinary Joe, with no extraordinary intelligence or skill set, wearing a robot suit. And, although Darkwing didn't have much to go on besides a few similarities and coincidences, he had some suspicions about who his rival/fellow patriot was beneath the armor.

Gizmo screeched to a halt in the mall parking lot, sending Darkwing catapulting over his head.

"Thanks for the warning, Giz..." Darkwing growled sarcastically as he peeled his beak off the pavement. Gizmo held his hand up in a silencing gesture. His antenna stopped rotating and focused in one direction.

"I think he's in here..." Gizmoduck whispered, pointing to the back entrance of the video arcade.

"Ooh, you think?" Darkwing hissed back at him. "It's the only door open!"

Darkwing zipped to the wall and pressed his back to it, his gun in hand, every sense on high alert. He could just hear a hint of coughing further in. His hand brushed the door aside, but as he sorted through potential tag lines for his speech, his concentration was rudely interrupted. Gizmoduck, also preparing to barge in and announce himself, had driven right over Darkwing's foot. Darkwing stared down at it for a moment.

"I hate it when that happens..." he groaned. Yanking his imprisoned limb out from under the tire, Darkwing hopped up and down, yelping.

"Whoopsies..." Gizmo grinned nervously.

The commotion alerted the thief to their presence. He flew outside, slamming the door in Darkwing's face. Darkwing forgot about his hurt foot as he dizzily straightened his beak. Gizmo helped steady him. Darkwing shook off the disorientation and the pain, glaring up at the well-meaning hero.

"Don't just stand there! Go after him!" he snapped.

Gizmo saluted hurriedly and zoomed after the fleeing figure.

Darkwing stared after him. "Great. There goes my ride." He looked around.

Being around elven pm, the parking lot was deserted except for two cars: mall security and a custodian. Darkwing considered, briefly, highjacking a vehicle, but shoved the thought aside. Just because he went after law-breakers on a daily basis didn't mean he was free to steal.

His gaze shifted up to the skyline and he smirked. "Well, I'm not known as the "terror that flaps" without cause..."

With his grappling hook's help, he reached the rooftop and swung, Tarzan-style, to the next building. In this mode of transportation, he was able to pinpoint Gizmoduck's location. He also caught sight of the thief, who was using a stolen Segway to keep ahead of the hero.

Darkwing passed both ducks and waited until the Segway was under him before pouncing. His timing was perfect. He slammed on top of the thief's shoulders and rolled them both off the scooter. Gizmo pulled up in time to witness the aerial maneuver.

"Well done, Darkwing. I'll take it from here," he said, clamping handcuffs on the thief's wrists.

"Oh no you don't! I caught him, I'll deliver him to the police!" Darkwing bristled, seizing the thief's sweater and ignoring the duck's struggles to get free.

"I was just trying to help..." Gizmo backed away from both the criminal and the angry crime fighter.

"Yeah, you were _real_ helpful," Darkwing pointed to the tread marks on his right foot from Gizmo's tire. "Just go away! I don't ever want to see you again!"

"Now, Wingy, I admit I was a tad too hasty in my entry, there's no need to overreact to such trivial matters..."

"Overreacting! I am NOT overreacting! I have been on the job since noon two days ago! In that time I've been humiliated, ignored, underestimated, punched, stomped on, and run over in pursuit of amateurs like him!" Darkwing pointed at the duck he had been holding, but stopped and stared.

All he had in his hand was a black sweater. The thief was gone, manacles and all.

"How the...? What is this? Did I cross a black cat or something? The past couple of nights have all ended like this so far!" Darkwing tugged hard on his hat brim, itching to tear something apart in his frustration.

Gizmo didn't help matters with his calm tone. "Don't worry, Wingy. You get some rest while I will track down that conniving canard. And just to make sure you get the glory you deserve I'll inform the police of your part in the thief's capture."

Darkwing threw down his hat. Who did this tin turkey think he was dealing with? Gizmo would get all the credit when Darkwing had done all the sleuthing and taken the hits. And Darkwing would get blamed for something inconsequential, like reckless driving or hitting the culprit too hard. It wasn't fair!

"That's it! I've had it! Just go home or back to your hotel or wherever it is you came from! I'll handle the bad guys!" Darkwing yelled, already walking away.

"But Darkwing, don't you...?" Gizmo started but Darkwing cut him off.

"I'm not interested!"

With a swirl of his cape and a puff of smoke, Darkwing ended the discussion. He was going to catch that thief if it was the last thing he did. And he wasn't going to share with some overdressed glory hound who couldn't even scope out a place without messing up. Within a few minutes, Darkwing was racing across the city in the Hoverquack.

Gizmo coughed until he remembered his suit's functions and activated his fan to blow the rest of the smoke away. He looked around and sighed.

No sign of Darkwing. Just an empty parking lot and dumpsters filled with the night's leftovers and a few stray cats. Gizmo scanned the ground and found Darkwing's tracks, but the duck's trail ended too soon to determine his whereabouts, or the thief's.

Great. What a nice way to end the night.

Just as Gizmo was about to head back to the house, his elbow phone started ringing. He forced himself to answer cheerfully, though he knew his night wasn't over.

The call was from the Duckburg police commissioner. There was a break in at the McDuck Museum. The police were on the scene, but they hadn't found anything missing. They wanted Gizmoduck to scan the building while they combed through security footage. If their combined efforts didn't turn up anything, they were going to call it a flaw in the alarm system.

Gizmo asked why they wanted him to investigate when his job was mainly catching thieves in the act, not detective work. The commissioner replied that they had been informed by Scrooge to call if anything fishy came up involving one of the museums. They were following through with orders.

Gizmo sighed and took to the air. After tonight, his suit's battery was going to need to charge a whole day.

Arriving at McDuck Museum about an hour later, Gizmo found that his services were not so urgently needed. The police had just decided that the alarm had been a system malfunction after reviewing the video footage. The video showed no changes before or after the alarm went off.

Gizmo was asked to do a perimeter sweep for good measure and call it a night. He sighed heavily. All that flying for nothing.

However, his security scan produced a set of footprints that fluoresced under his black light. Curious, he followed the tracks to the Nope Diamond display case. The aqua green gem was bigger than and just as precious as the Canard Diamond. Gizmo illuminated the diamond, expecting to be dazzled by its reflection. He had spent enough time with Mr. McDuck's valuables to acquire a bit of a financier's eye. However, the flashes of light only came from the facets directly under the light. The rest of the diamond remained peculiarly dull.

Gizmoduck wasn't renown for his observant eye or keen mind, but even in his state of fatigue, he recognized something was wrong. He asked the curator to take a look. Just as he had feared, the curator saw the same problem and he quickly opened the case to hold it up to a light. It was nothing more than a glass paperweight.

The Nope Diamond was gone...

His failure weighed more heavily on his shoulders than the suit. How was he going to face Mr. McDuck now? He'd lost the most valuable piece from Duckburg's exhibit, and the thief, and he had no idea where to start looking. He wasn't a detective.

Gizmoduck reluctantly admitted to the detective in charge that there wasn't much he could do. The detective accepted his defeat with a raised brow, but said nothing in reply. The forensics team took over the investigation, finding evidence that the security cameras had been remotely shut off prior to the robbery. Whoever was responsible for the jewel switch had been well prepared.

Gizmoduck felt he should at least try to solve the case somehow, but he could only think of one person with enough forensics know-how. Someone not a part of the official justice system, who might be willing to work outside of his jurisdiction. Unfortunately, Gizmoduck knew just how busy that guy had been today and that he would not take kindly to being given more work. Although Gizmo had half a mind to barge into Darkwing's lair at the bridge with his observations and theory that this was related to the other diamond heists, he suspected the crime fighter was still tailing the thief from Della's Diamonds.

Gizmoduck took to the air. He might as well head back to the Mallards. He knew Ma'Ma wasn't expecting him home tonight and he hated to wake her. Not that she had anything better to do than watch soaps all day, but she got pretty cranky when her rest was interrupted.

Besides, he had to go back to St. Canard in the morning to pick up his car and employer, and say "Bye" to Launchpad. He owed his buddy that much, even though he'd already said farewell to Drake and Gosalyn. He just hoped he could find the spare key Launchpad had told him about and sneak in without waking Gosalyn. Otherwise, he'd have to find a hotel for what was left of the night. He didn't look forward to that idea.

He didn't want to get caught on a traffic camera resuming his alter ego, so he took to the air and flew back into St. Canard until he deemed he was close enough to walk the rest of the way. Thankfully the Mallard's suburb was in a quiet part of town. He landed at the end of the street and, double-checking to make sure nobody was watching, he muttered the code words. The suit detached itself from his body and shrank into a small briefcase.

He picked up the valise and walked around to the side of the house.

The security lights came on and were quickly followed by a light inside the house. Fenton panicked for a moment, before remembering that Launchpad worked all hours of the night. Drake had probably rigged the place to provide Launchpad light when he got home, and to discourage potential burglars.

His hopes that all the lights were security measures were quickly dashed when a window opened and a pool of light landed on the grass next to him.

"Alright, you slugsucker!" Gosalyn shouted from an upper story window. "Step into the light where I can see you and put your hands up or I'll drop you like a hockey puck!"

"It's okay, Gosalyn," Fenton called up as he complied. "It's just me. Fenton."

"Oh yeah, right, like I'm supposed to trust someone rooting around my yard after midnight! Prove it!"

"Uh..." Fenton fumbled with his pockets. He had his driver's license, but that was about it. Then he thought of something. "Okay, you showed me your scrap book a couple hours ago after talking with my boss, Mr. McDuck, and Launchpad. Your dad was out getting stuff for an upset stomach, and I was about to go to bed before my...er briefcase rang."

Gosalyn leaned out the window to play a flashlight across his face, temporarily blinding him.

"Hmm... Well, good enough for me. I'll meet you up front," she said.

Rubbing the spots out of his eyes, Fenton retrieved his valise and walked back to the entrance. A few moments later, Gosalyn swung open the door and stepped back to admit him. She peered around him to make sure nobody was with him, and quickly locked up.

"What's up, Mr. Crackshell?" Gosalyn asked around a mouthful of a PB n' J sandwich. Apparently she'd been awake before the floodlights alerted her to his presence.

Seeing peanut butter smeared on her cheek reminded him that he'd only snacked lightly at the gala and had burned off most of his energy with the robberies. Still, he was a little concerned as to why Gosalyn was the only one up. He knew Launchpad might still be busy, but surely Drake would have seen the lights and come down to investigate by now.

"Hey Gosaroonie. Where're the guys? Shouldn't one of them answer the door this time of night?"

"I keep some burglar repellent close by," she replied and reached toward an umbrella basket by the door.

She produced a baseball bat, pepper spray, Silly String, and a hefty umbrella as proof, plus a pair of ice skates that would make a formidable weapon in a pinch. Fenton admired the arsenal, trying to imagine what good Silly String would do, but he was still unconvinced.

"Still, most polite visitors would call first... Of course, it would help if they had a phone..." Fenton turned his pocket inside out as explanation for why he hadn't followed his own advice. He also forgot about his comment moments ago about his briefcase ringing, but Gosalyn didn't question him. She just gave him a funny look and shrugged. Ruffling Gosalyn's hair, he headed toward the living room, setting his briefcase by the couch.

"So, where is everyone?" he asked.

Gosalyn's eyes widened. "Uh, Dad called it a night earlier. He has, uh, a meeting tomorrow and he wanted to make sure he got plenty of rest."

Fenton tilted his head suspiciously. "I don't hear any snoring."

"Oh, well that's because he probably took one of those sleep aid thingys," she shrugged.

"Oh. Okay. So what about Launchpad?"

"He's at Hamburger Hippo. He'll be back in a minute." Gosalyn hurried to change the subject. Fenton knew otherwise, but he couldn't let on that he knew Launchpad's secret. Admitting that he had seen Launchpad just a couple of hours ago was basically admitting that he was Gizmoduck.

"So, what do ya wanna do?" Gosalyn interrupted his reverie. "Play video games? Watch TV? Have a snack? How 'bout some pistachio prune ice cream? Or maybe you'd like a bubble bath..."

"Whoa, easy there little buddy." Fenton held up his hands, his voice dropping to a deeper pitch.

Gosalyn stared at him suspiciously. She knew that voice.

Fenton realized his mistake and cleared his throat. Before he could offer an idea of entertainment, the lamp started flashing next to the couch.

"Hmm. Looks like you could use a new bulb," he commented, having missed the earlier episode between Scrooge and Launchpad.

"Um, right!" Gosalyn improvised. "The replacements are in the kitchen pantry."

Gosalyn shoved Fenton out of the room. Before they crossed the threshold, Fenton felt a faint breeze behind him and heard a strange humming. He tried to turn around, but Gosalyn was surprisingly strong for her height and she pushed the duck flat on his face.

"Gosalyn, what are you doing?" he protested as she clambered over his back into the kitchen.

"Oh sorry, I tripped. Here, let me help you up..." she grabbed his arm and hauled him upright.

Brushing off his sleeves, he stared at her suspiciously. "You know, I could have found the pantry on my own..."

"Yeah, but I remembered something else I wanted to grab, and you know me. When I get in a hurry, I tend to get a little pushy. I'm real sorry, Mr. Crackshell. Um, I'll go to my room now..."

Gosalyn started to scoot away, but Fenton grabbed the back of her shirt.

"Hold on a sec! What was that noise?" he asked.

"What noise?"

"That whirring sound. And don't tell me it was your dad's snoring!"

"Oh thaaat... That's just the air conditioner, no big deal."

"Air conditioner? It's fifty degrees out!"

"Well, whatever you call the fan thingy in the attic that's always on. Like I said, no big deal. It always does that."

Fenton thought that over for a moment.

"Well I'm pretty good with electronics. Maybe I should take a look..."

"NO!" Gosalyn held up both hands. "No, don't trouble yourself on our account Mr. Crackshell... It's already been fixed."

"Then maybe your ductwork needs some cleaning. Something doesn't sound right."

"What doesn't?" Launchpad came into the kitchen, startling them both. He was empty-handed.

Gosalyn took opportunity to shrug out of Fenton's grasp while Fenton greeted his pal.

"Hiya Launchpad. When did you get back?" he asked.

"Uh, a moment ago?" Launchpad's brow was arched in confusion. Fenton pressed for further information.

"Didja bring back milkshakes or an extra burger?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Huh?"

"You know..." Gosalyn hissed to Launchpad. "From Hamburger Hippo?"

"Oh! Sorry about that, Buddy. Heh heh. Didn't know anyone else was hungry."

"That's okay. I don't need the calories. Say, what is that blinking light thingy?" Fenton pointed at Launchpad's jacket pocket. A green light was flashing on the communicator Launchpad usually carried when he was separated from Darkwing. Launchpad glanced down at his pocket and started sweating.

"Whoops. Gotta go! See ya later, Fenton!" Launchpad waved as he turned on his heel to leave.

"Hey, you just got back!" Fenton protested. "And it's after midnight! What gives?"

"Well, I've gotta fly for someone..."

Fenton frowned. He had a good idea who Launchpad meant.

"Can I come along?" Fenton asked eagerly. "I've alway wanted to fly in the Thunder Quack."

Both Launchpad and Gosalyn shot him a look.

"How do you know about the Thunder Quack?" Gosalyn asked suspiciously.

"Easy. I work for Mr. McDuck, and occasionally meet Gizmoduck. They told me about Darkwing's plane, and your night job, Launchpad."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense," Launchpad shrugged. "Still, I don't think DW would care to have a civilian under his nose right now. From what I hear, he's on a big case..."

Fenton crossed his arms and muttered under his breath. "Yeah, tell me about it..."

"...And he doesn't like distractions, so how 'bout a raincheck, ol' buddy?" Launchpad asked anxiously.

"Yeah, sure, fine. Go ahead. I'll make sure Gos gets back to bed."

"Great! See ya around, Fenton!" Launchpad waved and headed back to the hall. Gosalyn made sure Fenton didn't follow him by asking for help reaching a glass up in a cabinet.

Fenton got it for her and put his hands on his hips.

"There goes that noise again! Something's gotta be wrong with your ductwork, unless that's the garage door..."

"Could be..." Gosalyn shrugged innocently. She faked a yawn. "Well, time to hit the snooze button. You come'n up or what?"

"Well it is late," Fenton looked at his watch. "I'm not very sleepy yet, but I guess now's a good time to catch up on my reading... I'm right behind you..."


	3. Chapter 3

Meanwhile, outside the McDuck Museum Gizmoduck had investigated earlier, Darkwing was in a temper.

He had received an alert from his tower crime monitor about the robbery soon after it occurred. Normally he would have ignored St. Canard's sister city, but the timing could not have been a coincidence. A museum and two high-end jewelry stores robbed in two nights. So he took off and drove over an hour to Duckburg in his little vehicle. The low-set Hoverquack was great for getting around in small spaces, but it had not been made as fuel efficient as the Ratcatcher and it quickly ran out of gas.

To Darkwing's extreme irritation, the only gas station on this side of the sleepy town didn't have a twenty-four hour clerk. He had to use his S.H.U.S.H. issued debit card that was only meant for emergencies and for government resources.

He had topped off the tank and driven off, only to realize the oil pressure was low and he could smell something burning. He parked again and checked the engine. It was overheated. He nursed it the rest of the way to the museum, but he would not be able to make the long drive back home in it. So he summoned Launchpad.

He finally made it to the museum and found it yellow-taped with minimal security. He had to provide his S.H.U.S.H. credentials to get in, but his investigation was merely supervised, not hindered. He had followed the markers left by the forensic team and studied the display case carefully. And come up with next to nothing. The police had taken the case and fake stone back to their lab, leaving nothing but tracks of dirt on the linoleum. There was nothing left for the Duck Detective to delve into as he retraced the burglar's steps.

He had also found Gizmoduck's tire tracks and grumbled under his breath. He sulkily passed the guards again and waited impatiently for his ride home. He heard the guards talking in low voices. Something about a sports team. Nothing pertinent to the investigation. As he leaned against a pillar, he glanced up and down the sidewalk and noticed something he had missed earlier. A clod of dirt on the otherwise spotless sidewalk. It could be nothing, but judging from the fact that the sidewalk had recently been pressure washed, scraped clean of chewing gum, and also lacked lawn clippings and soil from landscaping, it could be a clue.

He was just bending to investigate when he heard the Thunder Quack land. He continued scoping the indiscriminate clod with penlight and magnifying glass. Launchpad's heavy footsteps slowed as he approached the crime fighter. Darkwing waited until his sidekick was close before snapping at him.

"It's about time! Did you stop and order a hamburger along the way?"

"Sorry, DW," Launchpad raised his hands automatically. "Fenton's back at the house. Gos had her hands full trying to keep him from asking the wrong questions."

"Tuhoohoohoo," Darkwing scowled. "That guy is determined to oust my identity and my sanity in one day. I'll have to have a looong talk with him someday... And, while I'm at it, I might as well ask him a few questions..."

Darkwing casually glanced up to see if his sidekick knew more about Fenton than he let on. Launchpad's eyes widened as he realized Darkwing was being serious, but he still looked confused. Darkwing continued his train of thought.

"For example, each time Fenton comes to our house without a car, he walks down our street. He has to get there somehow, yet the taxi companies have no record of him, and there's no footage of a car dropping him off on the traffic cameras at the end of our block."

"Traffic cameras?" Launchpad gulped, no doubt thinking about the times he'd nearly taken out the various signs in their neighborhood.

Darkwing fought back the inclination to roll his eyes and instead kept his steely gaze fastened on his sidekick's.

"Uh, why are you investigating Fenton, DW? He wouldn't harm a fly. At least not intentionally."

"I've got my reasons, LP," Darkwing said mysteriously. Seeing Launchpad's face fall, Darkwing took pity on him and patted his arm in a brotherly fashion. "I'll share them with you later. Right now, we've got more important things to do. Now come over here and tell me what you see." Darkwing pointed at his magnifying glass.

Launchpad obligingly peered down and squinted.

"Uh... A smudge of dirt?"

"Not just any smudge, it's a clue!" Darkwing pointed to indentations in the grass just off the sidewalk he had spotted while patronizing his sidekick. As he studied the faint footprints, he noticed the trail leading to and from a window. "And here's another clue! The thief entered by disabling the security cameras and engaging the emergency system remotely to open the front doors. It's possible he scoped out the place by first looking through a window... Right here!"

Darkwing followed the impressions and found tracks in the flowerbed under a barred window. Darkwing excitedly continued his train of thought.

"I saw identical stains on the floor in the museum. I assumed it was dirt tracked in by one of the investigators earlier, or perhaps the janitor had not cleaned up from the crowd yet. However, this dirt, the spacing of the footprints, plus the size of these indentations, tell me a lot about the thief. He is an avian, (notice the bits of feather clinging to this rose bush here) about my height, favoring his right hip just a smidgen. What does that tell you?"

"He's a short guy with a soccer injury?"

"Why do I even bother...?" Darkwing stared up at the sky. Glaring at his sidekick, he gestured to another identical smudge. "No, it means our opponent has faced opposition before. It could clue me in to his identity. And," bending down to wipe a finger across the spot, Darkwing continued his dialogue. "This mud tells me exactly where our slimy saboteur sojourned soon before the crime. LP, we're going back to... St. Canard's shipping port."

"Wow, good going DW! So, how'd ya figure that one out?"

"Easy," Darkwing sniffed delicately at his finger and wrinkled his beak. "It reeks of fish and motor oil..."

* * *

><p>A short flight to the pier later, Darkwing found out an identical patch of soil in the driveway right outside the Wacky Mackerel Factory.<p>

"Of course..." Darkwing hissed as he skulked toward a window. "This adds another piece to the puzzle. You recall what famous fiend formerly used this fishy facade to formulate his future felonies..."

Launchpad stared at the logo painted on the door. He was lost in fond memories of TV commercials and fishy snacks. Darkwing yanked the pilot's head down to his level by his scarf.

"Were you not paying attention?"

"Sorry DW. I was just thinking of the time Negaduck got transformed into Wacky Mackerel with S.H.U.S.H.'s ray gun..."

"Precisely! This is one of Negaduck's hideouts! Think about it. We know Negaduck is in town. He showed up within spitting distance of a robbery at the Jay Jeweler's store. Della's Diamonds and the museum, both owned by McDuck Corporation, are broken into and the famous, not to mention oddly named, Nope diamond is stolen less than a fortnight later. All by an unidentified avian. Though not Negaduck's normal style, I have determined from the evidence outside the museum that a duck his height, favoring an injury, with soil from this very pothole, was involved at every break in! Now what does that tell you?"

"That Negaduck hired a jewel thief and is planning on selling fish at the price of diamonds?" Launchpad asked as he sidled up alongside the warehouse next to Darkwing. Darkwing craned to peek through a window while outlining the plan.

"No. It means we're on the right track! Now give me a boost and go around back." He pointed to the pulley hanging above them. "When I make my entrance, you throw this smoke bomb in the center of the room and wait for my signal. Once I get Negaduck into position, use the double-reverse paddle-drop boom-boom kick I taught you to take him out."

"But DW, I never...!"

"Nonsense! Just stay close and move when I tell you! We'll have Negaduck in jail by morning."

Launchpad reluctantly gave his pal a leg up. Darkwing flipped through the opening for the loading crane, and began his trademark speech and entrance. Launchpad threw the smoke bomb through the double doors in back of the building, and Darkwing quickly jumped into action, throwing a flurry of punches and kicks that became a blur of motion.

Darkwing yelled, "Now Launchpad!"

Gritting his teeth in dread, Launchpad cartwheeled and spun, quickly becoming disoriented. He tried kicking and punching like DW had taught him, but he came out of the spin with his chin on the floor and Darkwing groaning underneath him. Both were too dizzy to move when they heard someone starting a car nearby.

Darkwing spoke threw a crumpled beak. "Launchpad, get off of me..."

Launchpad apologized and heaved himself up, finding Darkwing looking a little like a squished beetle. He helped the crime fighter to his feet and waited while Darkwing shook himself back into shape. By the time he'd straightened his bill, he looked none the worse for wear, and surprisingly calm.

"You okay, DW?"

"Sure, sure," Darkwing brushed off his sleeves. "It takes more than an airborne sidekick and a couple lucky punches to drop this duck!"

"Great! So, did you see Negaduck?"

"So to speak..." Darkwing lifted a crumpled yellow coat and red hat off the floor. "No matter. I got the drop on him and placed a tracking device on his person. We'll be able to follow this accomplice, whoever he may be, straight to Negaduck's hideout."

"But I thought this was it?" Launchpad looked around the room.

"Nooo. This was one of them, but not anymore. Negaduck never uses the same place twice. This felon I would have brilliantly defeated moments ago was apparently a decoy, or a hit man waiting for me to find him. Now that I've foiled the plan, that coward will have to run back to his boss and report a blotched job. And that will lead us right to the lion's den."

* * *

><p>A few hours later, after wasting their jet fuel, Darkwing reluctantly returned to his headquarters; disgusted, disheartened, and disheveled. He had tracked the scoundrel he'd tagged all across town, going from the power station, to a general store, to a Hamburger Hippo, to a Starducks, and finally back to the Wacky Mackerel Factory. He had confronted the duck, only to learn he was a security guard none too thrilled about the beating Darkwing had given him earlier. He'd socked Darkwing in the jaw and threatened him with a restraining order, a loaded gun, and a phone call to the police. Darkwing had backed out of the embarrassing situation and left to nurse his hurt pride in the tower.<p>

How could he fail so miserably? Twice in two nights! The evidence was clear. He'd followed the trail without a hitch. Yet both times he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion! Maybe he was losing his edge. Maybe he should let the police handle this. Certainly he deserved a vacation once in a while.

He stared up at the monitor. Negaduck was out there somewhere. Darkwing knew his adversary was toying with him, playing out tempting leads without revealing his cards. Sooner or later, the master villain would make a move, and Darkwing intended on being ready for him. He just wished he had something solid to go on...

He heard the chairs spin and sighed. He had sent Launchpad home to check on Gos just a little while ago. He'd expected his sidekick to turn in for the night, but apparently one or both of his family members had decided to rejoin him, possibly to talk him into going to bed. He welcomed the idea, but felt he had to check on a couple things before he was ready to hang up his hat for the night.

The footsteps were not heavy enough to be Launchpad's and Darkwing tensed a little. Gosalyn could sound like a herd of elephants when she was in hyperdrive, but she normally didn't move that loudly when approaching him in the tower. Or slowly. Perhaps she'd stayed up waiting for him and was barely awake enough to move. The picture in his mind of a sleepy Gosalyn made him smile fondly and he was about to turn to greet her when he caught a whiff of after-shave. All his senses went on high alert and he spun to face his foe...


	4. Chapter 4

Fenton tossed and turned. He was tired, but his mind refused to shut off. He kept seeing the robbery over and over. His mind's eye roved inside both museums, counting the broken shards of glass on the floor in St. Canard (as if that would be relevant to anyone, he scolded himself), and checking for possible accomplices, both in the museums and at the jewelry store. All he could clearly remember was the thief from Della's Diamonds. His visor had scanned the thief's height, weight, and body temperature, but those details were useless for actually tracking the man.

In some respects, he envied Darkwing for being able to focus on just capturing the crook. He didn't have to pose for the camera or talk nice to the kiddies every day. He didn't have to worry about having his weapons taken away or being fired by his boss for one too many mistakes.

It steamed Fenton's feathers, thinking about his rival/fellow hero. Darkwing had the mind and training to be a brilliant superhero, but his arrogance, stubborn refusal to let anyone help him, and his haphazard methods of catching crooks (with no regard to property damage) made him a liability to the public and law enforcement. A disaster waiting to happen...

Thoughts of Darkwing naturally led to Launchpad. Fenton suspected his old buddy had rejoined the crime fighter after the failed attempt to subjugate the suspect. It wasn't like Launchpad to forget about food. And he had just come back from dropping off Scrooge at the hotel.

And what was Gosalyn hiding? Fenton could be oblivious to many things, but he had done enough superhero work to recognize nerves when he saw them. Gosalyn had been practically jumping out of her chair. He knew that, as president of the Darkwing Duck fan club, she was privy to insider information about the crime fighter, and he knew that she was hiding something about Drake. A normally heavy snorer sleeping silently for the first time since Fenton had met him. Going to bed early for a meeting on...whatever he did for a living... Sounded kind of suspicious to Fenton.

Although he couldn't blame Drake for going to bed. The poor guy had looked pretty worn out today, and going to the gala hadn't helped. Fenton guessed Drake was a bit of a loner from the way he'd avoided most of the people at the gala. Or maybe he had already been getting cramps from whatever it was he had eaten... At least he was getting some rest and not worrying about Gosalyn.

Speaking of which, why did Gosalyn tell Fenton not to worry about the odd noises around the house? Living in a trailer, he knew that noises could indicate trouble, and he was pretty good at fixing...some things... And why had Gosalyn sounded so desperate to change the subject? Granted, he didn't know much about kids, but he'd spent plenty of time with Scrooge's motley gang. Mainly as Gizmoduck, of course. Surely Gosalyn recognized him as a trustworthy friend?

Fenton sighed exasperatedly and shoved the blanket aside. He wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. He might as well find something to do.

The guest room was part of Launchpad's suite, separated from the main room by a closet and a tiny hall. The hall in the suite was connected to the rest of the house. Fenton didn't know why Launchpad's second closet had been converted into a bedroom. It would have been more useful to the pilot as a bathroom or, knowing Launchpad's appetite, a kitchenette would have been appropriate. Fenton had never bothered asking.

Launchpad's snores could be heard rattling on the other side of the wall, indicating that he had returned from whatever mission he'd helped Darkwing with. Fenton hadn't heard him come upstairs, but then again, Fenton had been wearing his ear plugs. He came prepared whenever he needed to sleep in close proximity to his old friend. Having two other heavy snorers on the same floor made sleep near impossible for someone not accustomed to such racket. Gosalyn could snore just as loudly as the men in her house.

As usual, the nightlight in the bathroom was on, providing sufficient light for Fenton as he eased down the main hallway, passing Gosalyn's room and Drake's. Gosalyn's door was open a crack, just as it always was. Drake's door was closed, so Fenton couldn't tell if he was in there or not, but he didn't stand around listening. Something about Drake put Fenton on edge and he didn't want to get caught eavesdropping. It would insure that his next visit would not include an overnight stay.

Creeping downstairs as quietly as he could, Fenton headed to the kitchen. He fixed himself a snack (silently thanking whomever had baked the bread) and grabbed the newspaper from the counter. He noted that the only audible noises in the quiet household were the hum from the refrigerator and the snores upstairs. No way of telling whether the attic fan was responsible for the weird mechanical sound he'd heard when Launchpad got home earlier or not.

Finishing his sandwich, Fenton carried the paper into the living room. He stretched out on the couch for a bit, but the lamp was too far away to provide sufficient reading light. Although he knew Launchpad and the Mallards would disapprove, he settled in one of the twin blue chairs. Ah! Just right.

The only thing interesting for the Duckburg resident was the stock market. Anything else was related to St. Canard. Seeing a few lines advertising the McDuck Traveling Memorabilia opening gala, he tossed the paper aside. The last thing he needed was a reminder of that event. Gizmoduck hadn't even made an appearance and he had still been insulted by his boss. As if a suitcase would pass through the museum's security inspection. Really, Mr. McDuck could be a pain in the pinfeathers sometimes.

In his pouting, Fenton failed to notice the paper sliding off the armrest toward a statuette on the table next to him. By the time he realized it, the heavy newsprint was leaning against the narrow figurine. Not wanting to upset Drake by breaking what was evidently a beloved heirloom, Fenton scrambled to snatch up the offending weight before it knocked the Basil of Baker Street statue over. In his haste, his elbow bumped the mouse detective's head.

Before Fenton could register what happened, he found himself flipped upside down and dumped into a car seat, hurtling through near solid darkness at a high velocity. His surprised scream was torn from his throat as his body was flung up a vertical shaft. He landed on something soft and springy. Dizzily, he looked around.

It was the same chair he'd been sitting in. Or at least an identical one. The surroundings had changed, but they looked strangely familiar. Like he had seen them before, only in a different light… Of course! The visor on his helmet tinted things a little, but Gizmoduck had been here. This was Darkwing Duck's bridge headquarters!

Though he probably should have started wondering why Drake Mallard would have a secret tunnel connecting his house to Darkwing Duck's hideout, he was intrigued by a flickering pattern of lights overhead. He briefly wondered if it was the airplane lights on top of the tower, but the color and pattern were wrong. Besides, he knew the majority of the tower was sealed so that the public could not tap into its power source.

There were several levels of rafters, plus a platform over the original utility entrance that was now a sealed closet. On top of this platform sat numerous dimly lit shapes. It was where the changing colors were coming from.

Fenton passed a table covered with papers, a huge magnifying glass with an overhead light, a microscope, and a chemistry set on his way to the platform. He found the inset ladder and climbed up, discovering that the shapes casting the weird lights were computer towers, a printer/copier, and a cluttered counter, with a stool off to the side and a single chair occupying the center. Staring up at the enormous screen set into the wall, idly tapping his fingers on the keyboard to a monitor depicting the same satellite map of the city, was Darkwing himself. The mallard either had not heard Fenton's arrival or had written it off as someone to be expected and was too focused on his thoughts to bother looking up.

Not wanting to disturb the hero at his work, Fenton took the rare opportunity to look around Darkwing's work station. There were blinking lights indicating finished or delayed tasks, such as a paper jam in the printer that needed attention and a file waiting to be looked at on a separate computer. Papers spilled over their drawers from several filing cabinets under the desks. Apparently Darkwing used a combination of cutting edge technology and the old fashioned hands-on approach to handle his cases. It actually made Fenton respect him more.

Fenton thought maybe he could help a little by clearing the paper jam. He had just lifted the cover when a hand landed forcefully on his shoulder and spun him around. Fenton yelped automatically and the other hand squeezed his beak shut. He found himself staring into frightfully fierce eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Darkwing snarled, his teeth bared. Before Fenton could so much as gurgle a response, Darkwing swung him away from the printer to the vacated chair. Fenton fell into it and scrabbled to pull himself upright as Darkwing's hands released him.

"I didn't do anything! Honest! I just saw you had a paper jam there so I was going to fix it for you! That's all! I swear!" Fenton held up his hands.

Darkwing's territorial rage simmered down as he realized no harm had been done or intended. Slowly calming, Darkwing looked back toward the twin chairs, apparently expecting to see Gosalyn or Launchpad nearby.

Fenton had no way of knowing that he was the first ordinary citizen to set foot in here since Honker Muddlefoot. Nor did he realize how rapidly Darkwing's pulse was racing from the scare. He had met some of Darkwing's foes, but he didn't know that one enemy had discovered the hideout a couple years ago, or that Darkwing feared a similar attack at any time. He might have been more cautious and courteous otherwise.

Darkwing rubbed his temple tiredly before turning back to the trembling accountant.

"I ask again, what are you doing here, Fenton?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I sat down to read the paper and bumped the statue and…Hey! How do you know my name?" Fenton rose from the chair.

Darkwing's eyes widened in momentary alarm at his slip-of-the-tongue before he replied.

"I know all of Launchpad's acquaintances. He is my sidekick, after all." Darkwing leaned against the printer nonchalantly.

Fenton stared suspiciously at him before shrugging it off and letting his curiosity take hold again.

"So, this is how you keep an eye on the city? With this big map thingy?"

"It's a high resolution real-time satellite feed. I still have regular world and city maps, but I use this whenever there's a known super villain on the loose. It helps me pinpoint patterns more readily. Otherwise, it's just a super sized computer monitor."

"Blatherin' blatherskite! And I thought you just drove around on your bike all night, finding crimes by accident!"

"Nooo," Darkwing drew out the word with forced patience. "I use whatever technology I'm afforded. Although I do stumble upon the occasional mugging or theft in progress on my patrol route, my computers scan for trouble while I'm away so I don't have to stay on constant vigil. I'm alerted about the big stuff through pattern recognition software, which I designed using my highly trained logic and deduction, and by tapping into police and government radio frequencies. Plus, I receive alerts personally from several authority figures who value my expertise…" Darkwing smiled and hooked his thumbs on his lapels proudly.

"Boy, what Mr. McDuck could do with all this…" Fenton ogled the workstation. "Why, he'd know what the Beagle Boys were up to before they do!"

"That is the general idea," Darkwing said. "But it takes more than a computer to do a hero's work!" Moving closer to peer at a monitor, Darkwing continued his monologue. "It takes skill, ingenuity, planning, preparation, and a good dose of common sense…"

Fenton glimpsed Darkwing's profile as the mallard moved alongside him and was struck by his familiarity. Why, without the hat, he looked just like...

"Pretty impressive stuff ya got there, Drake…" Fenton dropped the name casually, watching for Darkwing's reaction. He saw it momentarily. The sudden lurch in posture, the widened eyes, the abrupt breath. Darkwing swallowed hard and turned to face the accountant.

"What did you just say…?" He couldn't disguise the slight tremor in his voice.

Fenton beamed with his discovery. "Drake! I knew you seemed familiar when I first met you! I should have guessed it at the start! You look the same, you sound the same, you hang out with the same people…"

"Alright already!" Darkwing waved his hands exasperatedly. "Just keep it down! I've got a family to protect!"

"Yeah, sure, no problem..." Fenton waved his hand dismissively as he moved to study a computer screen. "Your secret's safe with me…"

Darkwing grabbed his nightshirt and pulled him back around to face him.

"You have no idea what my enemies are capable of! Next to them, the Beagle Boys look like kids playing dress-up!"

"Don't worry, Wingy, my lips are sealed!" Fenton figuratively zipped his beak to emphasize his point.

"Riight…" Darkwing drew out the word with disbelief and a little sarcasm. He pretended to shrug off the conversation and turned his back to the duck before throwing a barb of his own. "I guess you've left me no choice but to trust you... Giz."

Fenton started to nod smugly, when Darkwing's nickname sank in.

"What did you just call me…?" Fenton asked hesitantly.

Darkwing smirked. "What, did you really think I wouldn't figure it out? I'm a highly trained super sleuth, remember? I noticed the similarities of your beak and voice a while ago. And since you "conveniently" show up on my doorstep whenever Gizmoduck is in town for more than a day, it was merely a matter of time before you gave yourself away, Crackshell."

Fenton drew a calming breath and straightened.

"I guess that makes us equal, Wingy," he said in his Gizmoduck voice. "A secret for a secret. And I promise I'll never abuse that privilege as long as I live."

"You'd better not," Darkwing growled. "I have a daughter and sidekick to protect! Not to mention girlfriend and neighbors…"

"Don't worry, Darkwing!" Fenton took a defensive step back, bumping into the office chair and sending it spinning toward the desk. Darkwing rushed to stop the chair from bumping his fragile equipment and glared at the duck. "I know what's at stake. I've got my own family to look after…And potential family…" he added wistfully as he envisioned his own lovely longtime girlfriend, Gandra Dee.

Darkwing's glare softened as, for perhaps the first time, he saw his rival as a real person, not just a publicity stunt and haphazard idiot. Straightening and clearing his throat, he put on a stern expression and held out his hand, stiffly.

"Well, Mr. Crackshell, I believe we've come to a stalemate. Now, as long as you keep my secret safe, I promise to do likewise. Luckily, our paths rarely cross, otherwise we might have to come up with a better solution. Since we both do occasional work for S.H.U.S.H., I believe that entitles us to the same protection as sworn-in agents."

"I just work for Mr. McDuck, but I do help the DIA in emergencies. And I'm always on call for the Justice Ducks. Say, I got it! We'll draw up a contract! That way nobody in the government can force us to reveal each other's secrets and our families are protected by our agencies!"

"No no no no no. We will not get anyone else involved! This stays between us, duck to duck. And if I hear so much as one word about you blabbing to the press…" Darkwing held up a finger warningly as he got up in Fenton's face.

"I get it! I get it!" Fenton protested, before dropping his voice back into Gizmoduck's. "And I swear, on my duty as a superhero, to be honor-bound to you and your family from this day forward. We will be champions of truth, of justice, and of the American Way, duly bound and truly formed, for the sake of liberty…"

"Yeah, yeah, save your speeches for the press, Bub…" Darkwing said sourly as he walked without watching where he was going.

Fenton tried to warn him, but Darkwing's foot stepped out on empty air and he fell from the platform. Fenton peeked down nervously.

"Not one word…" Darkwing growled from where he sat in an awkward heap. "Not a single word…!"

A few minutes, and several aspirin, later, Drake and Fenton stepped into the Mallard living room. They split up immediately, with Fenton heading upstairs to bed and Drake shuffling angrily into the kitchen.

Drake stormily went into his room after grabbing a sandwhich, but Fenton heard him step into the hall later to brush his teeth and check on Gosalyn. The long pause told him Drake was watching Gosalyn sleep and Fenton smiled.

Knowing Darkwing Duck's secret was more comfort than burden for Fenton. It showed him, without a doubt, that Darkwing Duck was a mostly decent guy who cared more than he let on. Who would have guessed that the arrogant, selfish, overbearing, under appreciative snob in the costume would open up his heart and home to a little girl? Fenton didn't know Gosalyn's story, but Launchpad had written to him a couple years ago that he was moving in with a friend to help him raise a kid. And Fenton couldn't help but hope that Drake would respect him more now, both as Launchpad's privileged friend and as a superhero. The smile stayed with him as he drifted off to sleep.

Drake was none too happy with the way things had gone. Between these diamond robberies and false leads, plus dead ends as far as motive was concerned, and Negaduck's taunting, Drake had enough on his plate to keep him busy for a week. Add to that the shakeup with Fenton, and his nerves were nearing breaking point. However, as much as he would have liked to rant and rave and throw things around (preferably at Gizmoduck), Darkwing's thoughts were still on the case.  
>Unlike most jewel thieves, Negaduck did not pawn or cut his hard-sought diamonds. The villain preferred to stash his goods until he had use for them, and Darkwing couldn't imagine what use his foe would have for a stone the size of the Nope Diamond. Darkwing could only postulate that the gem was payoff for something being done or yet to be laid into action. It didn't give him any comfort trying to guess what those things might be, nor did his computers offer any help. Add on top of all this a loud-mouthed accountant with connections to the richest duck in the world and a secret that could destroy Darkwing's career and lifestyle, and it shaped up to be a very poor morning indeed.<br>With these thoughts, Drake headed to his room. He would have liked to fall on his pillow right away, but there was one thing left to do. Check on Gosalyn.

Drake stood in the doorway and watched Gosalyn toss in her bed, mumbling something in her dream. He waited to see if he should comfort her or let her sleep. As he studied her movements, he felt the tension that had been building up since Thursday slowly melt. When he was with his daughter, nothing else in the world mattered, and that was precisely what both Drake Mallard and Darkwing Duck needed.  
>He waited a little longer and finally heard her breathing settle into the rattling snore that meant she was soundly asleep. He smiled, remembering how he used to lie awake at night wishing he could block out the disturbingly loud sounds from his housemates. Now he couldn't sleep until he heard at least one of them snore. It meant all was well in his little world and he could rest. He finally slipped into his own room and soon added his own snores to the household cacophony.<p>

* * *

><p>The next day went by mostly as a blur. Gosalyn let her housemates sleep in until ten am before starting a hockey game in the living room. The sound of the puck bouncing off walls reached Drake's over-tired senses and he bounded out of his room hollering with no consideration for the rest of the household. Fenton and Launchpad dragged themselves downstairs to start on coffee and breakfast while tactfully ignoring the father-daughter argument going on behind them.<p>

Drake dropped the subject as his adrenaline wore off and the coffee beckoned him. All four ducks sat down for a comparatively quiet meal before Fenton and Launchpad drove off to pick up Mr. McDuck at the hotel. Gosalyn then coaxed her dad into a rowdy "Whiffle Boy" game face-off and ended the competition with a tickling fest and chase that left them both collapsed on the floor giggling.

Then the doorbell rang and Gosalyn's energy spiked again as she greeted her best friend Honker Muddlefoot. She enlisted Honker in an impromptu game of baseball and Drake barely got her outside before she started swinging the bat. Drake fixed some lemonade (the instant, powdered variety) and dutifully kept an eye on the kids. Binkie called soon afterwards and asked if he would mind helping Herb fix a leaky faucet (which meant Drake would do all the work while Herb yakked).

Drake reluctantly agreed and spent a good hour sweating in the Muddlefoot's bathroom trying to figure out what the problem was while desperately trying to tune out Herb's monologue on Quackerware, "Pelican's Island," and any other useless tidbit Herb pulled out of his memory banks. It was a challenge worthy of Darkwing Duck, but at least the faucet turned out to be a simple fix. The Muddlefoot's older son Tank had removed a gasket for the fun of it.

Drake considered confronting the preadolescent, but decided he would rather save his energy to battle one of his archenemies. Or a rabid squirrel. Anything other than facing a child prone to biting and punching that legally Drake couldn't lay a finger on.

So, Drake went with Herb to the hardware store (Launchpad hadn't returned with his car yet), leaving Gosalyn under Binkie's somewhat helpful vigil, and got everything squared away. Although he would have preferred to relax at home, Binkie rewarded his efforts with a veritable lunch fit for a king. And there were plenty of leftovers to satisfy Launchpad when he (finally) returned.

Launchpad admitted he had volunteered to drive Scrooge home, with Fenton following in his car. Launchpad had then started chatting with his Duckburg friends and they called their pal Gyro Gearloose to join them. Doofus had been there as well, and Scrooge had called Mrs. Beakley and Webby to come see Launchpad before he went home. There had been plenty of fellowship and munchies, courtesy of Duckworth, Scrooge's canine butler, and Mrs. Beakley.

Launchpad regaled Drake with all the minor, unimportant details of his friends' lives, until he glanced at his watch.

"Gee. We'd better get dinner soon if we're going to be at Mr. McDee's bin in a couple hours," he said.

"Huh?" Drake asked from the couch, barely conscious after being bored to death.

"Mr. McDee's money bin. He asked you...I mean, Darkwing, to come by and check out his security system. We'll need about an hour to get there at 8:30. I figure by the time I get the Thunder Quack warmed up and we have supper, it'll be about time to leave."

Drake ran his hand down his face. "I forgot about the "invitation." Humph. More like a demand, really. What did McDuck mean by the "right persuasion" anyway? It's not like he knows me. In either of my personas..."

"Can't help ya there, DW," Launchpad shrugged, refusing to be baited into roasting his former boss and friend. To move Drake's mind off of Scrooge, Launchpad said matter-of-factly, "Say, I'll bet Gos would love to see Duckburg. She could help you figure out the bin's security system..."

"Oh no." Drake lurched up from the couch, all drowsiness faded. "I am not hauling my daughter out there for McDuck to scrutinize. If he sees her with Darkwing, he'll figure out my identity! And if he knows, there's no telling how many news networks he'll call!"

Launchpad waved off Drake's concern. "Aw, don't sweat it, DW. Mr. McDee wouldn't do that to ya. He knows what the press is like. He deals with them all the time, and he's pretty good at steering them away from trade secrets and stuff."

Drake crossed his arms. "Yeah, well I wouldn't put it past him to make a quick buck off of my life story!"

"Not if Quiverwing Quack goes with you!" Gosalyn called from upstairs.

She shot a toilet plunger arrow from the top of the stairs. It fastened firmly to the front door and she slid down the rope attached to it. She somersaulted to her feet to show off her moves, her green cape swirling around her.

Drake hid a smile and turned to face her. "Oh? And you think you will be able to waltz under McDuck's beak without him recognizing you?"

"I could ask you the same question, "Darkwiiing,"" Gosalyn replied smoothly. "He did just meet your alter ego. With me there, he'll be too distracted to think about your similarities."

"And what makes you think he won't put two and two together?"

"Simple. I'll stay in the shadows. He won't even know I'm there. And if Gizmoduck shows up I'll keep him busy."

Drake rolled his eyes at the mention of his rival, but he only ranted about the other hero for a few minutes. He stopped to snag Gosalyn's cape before she reached the spinning chairs.

"Lets just get one thing clear! You are staying in the plane and that's final!" he stated.

She smiled and played the reverse psychology card. "Great! That means I can come!"

"I did not say that, I said...!"

"Uh, I'm going to the tower now," Launchpad said, sidling past the two heroes to the chairs. Neither took notice of him.

"...I said you are staying home!" Drake snapped.

Gosalyn bristled. "What for and how come? I don't have school tomorrow, I'm not grounded, and I've already spent the whole day with the Muddlefoots! Considering I haven't gotten in trouble for anything, and I helped steer YOU out of a jam with Fenton and Mr. McDuck yesterday, I think I deserve at least a little consideration! I'm not a baby!"

"But...then there's... And... Oh, never mind... Alright. You can come, but preferably without the Quiverwing ensemble."

"What! No fair! How come you get to do the fun stuff?"

"Because _I_ was _invited_. You were not. And if McDuck sees you in costume, he's going to wonder why Darkwing Duck has two little girls following him around who are the same height with the same hair color and all that. It's better for both of us if you just come as yourself. Say it's for the fan club, or research for a report, or something you forgot to ask him yesterday. And if he asks about your father, tell him I'm on a business trip or something."

"Yeah right, like he'll believe that..." Gosalyn rolled her eyes.

"Oh yeah? Well, Miss Smartypants, how would you explain your presence with a world-class superhero? Hmm?"

Gosalyn smirked but managed to hold back a chuckle. Nothing would guarantee getting left behind as quickly as insulting Darkwing's ego.

"Don't worry, Dad. I've got it covered."

* * *

><p>Going back a few hours to earlier that afternoon...<p>

Fenton received a phone call at home from Gyro Gearloose, inviting him to see Launchpad while the pilot was in Duckburg. Fenton apologized, telling Gyro he had already seen Launchpad and needed to charge the gizmo suit. Gyro accepted that and Fenton spent most of the afternoon at home, resting and catching up on laundry. He was just considering calling Gandra later that evening when he heard a phone.

"Fenton, will you answer that already?" his mother whined from her perch on the sofa. "I'm trying to watch "Ducks of Our Lives.""

"Yes, Ma'ma, I'll get it..."

Fenton searched for the house phone under a pile of newspapers and laundry before he realized it was his gizmo phone. He yanked the elbow joint out of the briefcase, falling against a pile of clothes and creating an avalanche of garments. Scrambling out from under some shirts, he answered.

"Y'ello! Fen..." he cleared his throat and lowered his pitch. "I mean, GIZMODUCK is here. How can I be of service?"

"Gizma'duck," Scrooge said. "I've just been contacted by the DIA. Some law enforcement agency in St. Canard is trying to get ahold of ya."

Fenton gulped. He had an idea what agency that might be. He hung up politely and dialed the number Scrooge had given him. It led to a voice message that said he should arrange to meet in person as soon as possible.

Fenton couldn't say no to an emergency, so he reconnected the battery to his suit, packed a spare battery, and flew to the main S.H.U.S.H. headquarters in St. Canard. The fact that he was admitted without the usual questioning and sent straight to the director's office told him something serious was going on.

"Gizmoduck," Hooter greeted him tiredly. "I'm glad you could make it in such a timely manner. I assume you got my message...?"

"Just that someone in St. Canard wanted to see me, Sir. Is this about the diamonds?" Gizmo asked.

"Actually, that's what we were hoping you could figure out. While we are aware of the stolen goods, S.H.U.S.H. typically does not get involved in matters best left to the police. However, the reason we called you is to investigate a, uh rather delicate situation... I assume you are familiar with Flintheart Glomgold?"

"What has that no good cheater done this time?" Gizmo demanded automatically before gaining some control over his emotions.

"I see..." Hooter noted his reaction. "Well, it appears Mr. Glomgold was paying someone a visit... And ended up paying more than he planned. The police have a body in the morgue they claim is Mr. Glomgold's. And they have security tapes of Mr. Glomgold being engaged by someone we both are very familiar with just prior to his demise..."

"Wait, Glomgold was here? In St. Canard? Why?"

"Another mystery the police are looking into." Hooter wiped his glasses. "But we are more concerned with the state of affairs that led to Mr. Glomgold's untimely demise... Before I go further, what is your current standing with Darkwing Duck?"

Giz paused, collecting his thoughts.

"Well, same as usual, I guess... We're both tolerant to a point, and we work well as a team, but we still get on each other's nerves. We've recently reached an understanding that I think puts us on friendlier terms... Why? Did he turn down the case or are you asking me to work with him?"

"Before I answer that, why don't you take a look at this video we pulled off of a security camera in front of Della's Diamonds..."

Hooter swiveled his monitor so Fenton could watch the action. He saw the same thief he had helped Darkwing chase down enter the store an hour after closing and emerge a few minutes later, with a loot bag. An hour later, the alarm went off and police arrived. Soon afterwards, Darkwing entered the building, followed by Gizmo himself and pals. The police left soon afterwards and the thief returned. The footage of Darkwing's attack on the thief was unmistakably rough and Gizmo uncomfortably recalled the thief's cough.

Hooter fast-forwarded through the next twenty minutes. The thief, missing his bulky sweater, returned again to the store and peered in as before. Then he swung around to stare at someone off-camera and stepped out of the line of sight. Moments later, the same masked figure fell back onto the sidewalk, his beak ajar and gaping. He didn't move.

"This unfortunate gentleman was found dead this morning by the store owner," Hooter explained. "Another security recording showing a different angle of the scene was appropriated and reviewed by my agents an hour ago. It was most disturbing, but I'm afraid the evidence is quite clear..."

The second film clip showed the thief approaching someone just out of sight of the camera. The ski-masked duck waved his arms in animated discussion at the unseen person, then a webbed foot shot out of the lower corner and connected with the duck's diaphragm. The duck doubled over, gasping and dry-heaving.

The other person stepped out of the shadows, revealing a broad hat and cape. The figure approached the duck menacingly. His cape obscured the victim, his hand clearly raised in a karate chop. He brought his hand down sharply and the thief fell. The caped figure then kicked the body away, into the line of sight of the jewelry store camera, and turned away from his victim. Hooter paused the feed. There was no mistaking the face of the murderer...


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: You can skip this chapter if you're not interested in Duckburg, as nothing important to the plot happens in it. This was written for the fun of it. I couldn't write about Duckburg characters without taking a detour to the famous money bin. I had to make up some details as I only have a couple of DT episodes to draw from. _

* * *

><p>At Scrooge's money bin...<p>

Darkwing skulked along the perimeter of the building. He had already sprung the nets, the giant fly swatters, the crushers, the pit trap, the motion sensors, the heat detectors, and security cameras; now he was right beside the target. He fully expected any number of traps to spring the moment he touched that door. He moved stealthily, his clothes barely rustling. To a casual observer, he was no more than a shadow against the light color of the layered steel and concrete.

He felt his toe brush against something solid in the grass and he froze in anticipation. Half a second later, a mechanical arm swinging a giant mallet came at him. He sidestepped it, dodging the back swing as well. He continued his approach.

A faint smell caught his attention and he followed it to the doorway. He knelt down to study the area. There was a tube the diameter of a pencil just visible through a slit in the insulation around the door. He was certain it contained lighter fluid.

Darkwing smiled darkly. The implications meant something flammable was positioned behind the door. Most likely a blow torch aimed too high to damage more than a coiffure. It was meant to frighten rather than harm, but the heat and the light of the blaze would certainly affect whoever got this far. There were also a number of trip wires that suggested additional unpleasantries. For the average safe cracker, these were excellent deterrents.

Darkwing stifled a laugh. As if he could be considered "average" in anything. If he were breaking into the building for his own means, he would have done so already without springing any of the traps. And he knew how he would have done it, too.

He had noticed the windows several stories up. He could have used his grappling hook or some other means to reach one, slip in, disarm security, and been done. All it would take was a bit of ingenuity, skill, and persistence. Same as it did with government buildings. There was always a way in for someone confident in his own abilities and unafraid of risks. But, because the whole point of this visit was for Darkwing to inform Scrooge how to improve his security, he had agreed to try every trap. Even the ones so blatantly obvious he couldn't believe anyone had ever fallen for them.

The only things he didn't have to deal with were Gizmoduck and law enforcement. That was because Scrooge had informed the police and fire department he was having a drill at his facility and that any alarms raised were to be ignored if they were shut off in a reasonable amount of time. As for Gizmoduck... Well, Darkwing mentally shrugged. Fenton was probably home with his mother...

Darkwing forced himself to focus as he tried the door handles. He heard the lighter fluid gurgle faintly and he sprang into action. As he cartwheeled, flipped, and somersaulted through the entrance, he heard traps spring behind him. Another set of crushers, another pit fall, the blow torch he'd anticipated, a machine gun (rubber bullets, Darkwing assured himself after momentarily panicking under the onslaught), and... Darkwing stopped and looked around.

Was that it? He was well past the entrance, completely unscathed. So was the tiny airborne robotic camera following him that was linked to Scrooge's security station. He glanced at the camera and put his hands on his hips.

"Surely there's more to this than that. Any video-gamer could figure a way past..."

SPLAT!

Darkwing stumbled back as he was suddenly blinded by whipped cream and pie crust. As he tried to recover his balance, a trap door positioned just for this purpose opened beneath him. However, Darkwing had faced pie throwers and pit falls before, and he resorted to his other senses while his eyes blinked furiously beneath the cool damp facial mask. He pushed his feet against the tunnel sides and flipped up and out of the trap. He landed neatly and heard applause over a loud speaker.

"Great job, Mr. Duck! I'll take acrobatics into consideration for future inventions," Gyro's tinny voice echoed through the hallway.

"Way to go, DW!" Launchpad added.

"Right," Scrooge spoke. "We'll take a five minute break so you can get cleaned up before resuming the exercise..." He sounded both professional and eager.

Darkwing scoffed. "Pah! I don't need a break, Mr. McDuck! I've got everything I need right here..."

Darkwing produced a handkerchief and a small spray bottle from a concealed pocket and wiped off the pie. Even as he scrubbed away the crust, he heard Launchpad over the intercom.

"Uh, just for the sake of curiosity and all, what flavor is that, DW?"

Darkwing scowled. Leave it to LP to think of eating in the middle of a job. He was about to patronize his sidekick, but he heard Gyro volunteer the information over the loudspeaker.

"It isn't a flavor. It's whipped cream and graham cracker crust. I make it myself from Mrs. Beakly's recipe. I occasionally use cheap shaving cream when I run out of milk, but I made sure it was whipped cream tonight so it wouldn't burn your eyes..."

"How thoughtful..." Darkwing growled.

He got as much pie off as he could with the cloth and finally spritzed his face with the water bottle. As he had anticipated, his Teflon mask and suit repelled the oil and moisture, making cleanup relatively easy. However, he hadn't anticipated the mess it would make on the floor. His feet were covered in foamy bits of pie and water. He sighed. He would definitely need a shower when he got home...

"Are you ready to resume the mission?" Scrooge asked curtly, sounding more impatient than he had any right to.

Darkwing bristled. He was the one who had wasted jet fuel, motor oil, time, and patience to do this little "favor" for the miserly mallard. And Darkwing was pretty sure Scrooge did not intend to pay him. The old codger was probably miffed that he was going to have to hire someone to clean up the place. And there were lots of traps and sensors that needed to be reset... Darkwing was not about to volunteer to do any of it.

Darkwing reluctantly gave the flying robot camera a thumbs up and headed down the hallway. Mrs. Featherby, the secretary, was not at her desk but Darkwing guessed there wasn't much point in investigating it. He moved on to the elevator, knowing that it could be shut off by security. As he'd expected, it stopped mid floor with the doors jammed. What he didn't expect was sleeping gas to pour through the duct work.

Darkwing was experienced in handling all the side effects of various home-made and store-bought gases and this stuff wasn't nearly as potent as his own recipe back home. He tucked his beak in his turtleneck and climbed up to disable the vent. There was no escape hatch at the top, so he threaded a straightened paperclip between the main doors to jiggle the tripping mechanism. The doors opened, and he was out.

He climbed to the nearest floor level and exited, pleased that, so far, he had not caused any permanent damage to McDuck's property. He observed he was on the third floor, which was filled with filing cabinets and a closed-off room that proved to be McDuck's thinking room, complete with a statue and a track well-worn from pacing.

Darkwing moved on to another door and found the emergency stairwell. He took the stairs to the top floor and once again ran into a gamut of traps. Many of them were the same as the ones downstairs and Darkwing had no trouble evading them, although he did take half a pie to the face again. He hadn't ducked fast enough to avoid all of it.

This time he scrambled away from the trap door before it opened, and accidentally ran straight into one of the mallets. It smacked down on his foot. Darkwing hollered and hopped about, distracted by the pain. Then he heard a click and barely had time to duck another gun shooting rubber bullets.

He crawled away from the arsenal to McDuck's personal desk. He guessed that the only things booby-trapped there would be the computer, curio cabinets, and desk drawers. He leaned against it while he wiped his sleeve across his face.

Suddenly a mousetrap sprang from behind a pen box, snapping onto his ha d. This set off another one, which bounced in the air and latched onto his beak. Darkwing yelped and pried it off, only to set off still another trap under the desk, pinching his foot.

Losing his patience, Darkwing tore the traps apart by their springs and glared around the room, daring anything else to come at him. At this rate, he felt anyone who could make it this far deserved the money. Or at least a well-paid lead role on a TV show...

Two more tests were ahead of him. Well, technically three. The first was obvious. Get to the money. That required either somehow breaking through the thick steel door or deciphering the code and dodging even heavier artillery once inside.

Then he had to try to steal Scrooge's "Lucky Number One" dime from its pedestal, avoid the booby traps that would set off, and get out.

Escape was the third part of the test, and Darkwing wondered about it. Surely he had set off every trap in the building. What was the point of having traps set to go off after a robbery if the thieves had already gotten in? Of course, Darkwing wouldn't have it any other way, but he hadn't seen any more compartments for hidden traps and most of the sprung traps had not automatically reset themselves. At least, he didn't think they had... It would be pretty cool if they did...

Darkwing's thoughts wandered back to wariness. The vault was just inches away. As he raised his hand to the handle, the door swung out at him, forcing him to jump back.

"Hey! What's the big idea?" he snapped, glaring up at the camera hovering above him.

"Just thought I'd save you the trouble, Mr. Duck," Gyro said cheerfully over the intercom. "Since the only way in is to blast the door or crack the code, I figured we wouldn't waste your valuable time."

"Or ours..." he heard Scrooge mumble sourly. Darkwing scowled, but he held his tongue. He couldn't complain. As much as Darkwing loved showing off, he was ready to call it a night.

He dodged a few more traps and vaulted over the railing, landing on top of a solid mass of cold, hard cash. He blinked. He knew Scrooge had a fortune, but he'd never imagined seeing this many coins in his life. Doubloons, Chinese gold, Roman gold, rubles, pounds, halfpennies, sovereigns, centimes, francs, and all variations of American currency…the value of the older coins would be enough to put Gosalyn through college twice. And that didn't count the bulging sacks of bills, gold bricks, or odd bits of jewelry and loose gems.

It was no wonder Scrooge built the bin for his fortune. The coins increased in value every year. And the bin was more secure than a bank box or storage compound. Darkwing also knew that part of Scrooge's fortune was invested in companies and stock. McDuck Corporation kept Duckburg, and other people around the world, well employed.

Shaking himself from his daze, Darkwing spotted the pedestal. He reached it unhindered and, after carefully studying it for triggers, carefully lifted the glass globe. Immediately an alarm started blaring and the bin went into lockdown. Darkwing snatched the dime, fired his grappling hook at the railing, and flipped through the vault door in two seconds. Immediately upon landing, Darkwing raced across the office to the window by Scrooge's desk. And paused...

If this were an emergency, he would not have hesitated to break the glass. In fact, it would have been the first sign of his trespass, as he would have used it to get inside. For now, he needed to find a less damaging, more creative way out, but first... time to turn off that blasted alarm!

He checked the desk and found a big red button underneath. He pressed it, expecting it to deactivate the alarm, but nothing happened.

"Come on, stupid worthless piece of junk!" Darkwing punched the button several times in a row, jumping up on top of the desk in his irritation.

Finally he realized he was hearing a swishing sound with each punch and glanced behind him. The chair in front of McDuck's desk was spring-loaded and the window opened automatically for the chair's occupant to be thrown through it.

Darkwing smirked. "Looks like McDuck has more humor than I credited him for... That route of escape would be too easy, though... Let's see what else we can find."

"Not to be rude, but what are you waiting for!" Scrooge's voice blared over the intercom. "Ah have to cut off the alarm soon or the police will think there's been an emergency!"

"Alright already!" Darkwing snapped.

He jumped out the open window, flaring his cape to control his fall. After he'd floated down a few stories, he fired his grappling hook at the building. It caught and Darkwing retracted the rope just in time to keep from hitting the ground. He jumped the last few feet down and retracted the hook.

"That's one for the Visitors, zilch for Home Team..." Darkwing smiled proudly, before adding thoughtfully. "Unless you count the pie and a half... And mouse traps... No matter, the job is done. And I believe I've already proved my prowess enough. I shouldn't have to retrace my steps across the yard. Now for that alarm..."

He marched confidently back to the entrance, expecting to find it as he'd left it. He was surprised to find a bomb door blocking his access to the bin.

"Okaaay..." he murmured. "Maybe I'll let McDuck handle the alarm... And find a place to hide just in case the police show up. I don't expect them to throw down the welcome mat to an unfamiliar masked mallard on McDuck's doorstep..."

The alarm cut off and the bomb door retracted. The bin security was reset. Darkwing brightened and waltzed right back in.

"Ha! Piece of cake."

Smiling proudly, Darkwing started to head toward the security office to rejoin his companions when the alarm started back up and the door swung open behind him. He jumped and spun around. Somebody else was setting off the traps. He caught a glimpse of a red shirt and a green hat before the crushers slammed together and obstructed his view.

The crushers retracted and three masked canines stared back at him.

"Duh...Who are you s'posed to be? A magician?" the tallest Beagle Boy, Bouncer, asked Darkwing.

Darkwing recovered from his confusion and smiled.

"Something along those lines. And now, for my next trick...! Hee ya!"

Darkwing leapt into the air, triple-flipped, cartwheeled, and spun on his head. Bouncer and Burger applauded. Darkwing bowed for a moment before vaulting up and simultaneously kicking both brothers. His webbed foot bounced on Burger's belly, throwing him off form and into Bouncer's chest. Darkwing recovered quickly and karate chopped Bouncer's neck. When that failed to drop him, Darkwing went into a frenzy of activity, throwing punches, kicks, chops, and finally settling with straddling his neck and banging on his head.

"I think this guy's serious," Bouncer confided to Big Time, the shortest of the three and the leader.

"Yeah. What gave you that idea?" Big Time asked irately.

Darkwing was running out of steam. He draped across Bouncer's hat, panting and sweating. He threw one more punch and lost his balance, slipping off of the Beagle Boy's shoulders. On the way down, his heel caught Bouncer's nose. Bouncer yelped.

Reinvigorated by that minor sound of pain, Darkwing lurched to his feet, ready to take credit for whatever harm he had caused. He deflated when he saw the reason. Big Time stepped up to him and grinned wickedly.

"Is that all you've got? Maybe it's time you learned a new trick..."

"Oh goody!" Burger clapped his hands. "Does it involve candy?"

"Sorry, Burger, but it does involve Creamed Duck!"

Big Time threw a punch at Darkwing, but instead of connecting with the duck's beak, he instead ended up doing a face plant in Burger's belly. Darkwing had shoved the chubby Beagle brother into the shorter Beagle's path. Both of them ended up on the floor.

Bouncer, recovered from the previous set back, grabbed Darkwing by the neck and lifted him off his feet. He drew back his fist, but before he threw the punch his expression changed to a goofy, cross-eyed grin.

"Oh...look at the pretty birdies..." he mumbled before passing out.

Darkwing rolled to his feet and, ducking an airborne pie, glanced out the door. Burger and Big Time were back on their feet and equally stunned.

"What gives...?" Big Time started to ask, but a net landed on top of him and his brother, its weighted edges dragging them to the floor.

Darkwing studied the net. It had a familiar arrow shaft sticking out of the top. A weighted boxing glove arrow proved to be the source of Bouncer's headache as well. Darkwing fumed. Only one person could be responsible for those shots, and she just happened to be in town at the moment...

Before he could yell and make a scene, Bouncer started coming around. Darkwing grabbed the boxing glove and slammed it into Bouncer's head with all his fury, knocking the Beagle out again. By that time, Gosalyn had reached the bin, bow in hand, looking quite smug. That did it. Now Darkwing was more than an annoyed father/superhero. Now his ego was involved.

"I thought I told you to stay in the plane!" he snapped.

Gosalyn's eyes glittered mischievously.

"And miss saving your tail feathers? You ought to thank me for watching your back." Gosalyn put one hand on her hip and smirked, just as her father might have done had the roles been reversed. He reacted as much to her attitude as her words.

"THANK YOU!"

Before Darkwing could fire off a reply, he was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps. Scrooge, Gyro, and Launchpad joined him in moments.

"The police should be here any minute," Gyro said. Smiling at Gosalyn, he added. "We saw everything on camera. Those were pretty impressive shots, Miss. You arrived right on time."

"Aye, and you saved your friend here a black eye," Scrooge pointed his cane at a scowling Darkwing.

"Hey, what can I say?" Gosalyn posed theatrically. "I've had lots of video game experience..."

While Gosalyn went on to relate how she'd figured out Darkwing was in trouble, Launchpad leaned over to whisper to the slighted crime fighter.

"You okay, DW?"

"Yeah," Darkwing growled softly. "Just peachy."

"But how did you get here, Ms. Mallard?" Scrooge asked Gosalyn, grabbing Darkwing's attention with the use of his surname. "Me bin is a long way from Duckburg's tourist attractions..."

"That's because I'm here with Darkwing. And Launchpad, of course. As president and founder of the Darkwing Duck fan club, I get exclusive perks and privileges. So, since this was a non-crime-fighting visit, I got to come along for the ride. And, since my dad is out of town for some writer's guild meeting, Launchpad is taking care of me. What better baby-sitters could you ask for? Someone who actually likes kids, and a superhero."

Before Scrooge could answer, the police arrived. Five officers handcuffed the Beagle Boys and loaded them in the squad car, while the others surrounded the bin. The officer in charge questioned Scrooge.

"We were about to call and warn you, Mr. McDuck. The Beagle Boys escaped from jail two hours ago and we suspected they would take advantage of your...ahem, "security drill." We had officers in the area to keep an eye on the place and saw these boys make their move."

The lieutenant eyed Darkwing warily. "If I hadn't recognized you from the news, I might have arrested you on sight, Mr. Duck. Duckburg doesn't take kindly to folks running around in costumes outside of a masquerade or Halloween party..."

Darkwing wasn't sure whether he should be insulted or relieved. He decided to play down both emotions by putting on a show of arrogance.

"Well I'm glad someone recognizes a hero when they see one... By the way, which network did you see me on...?"

""TV's Funniest Moments,"" the officer smirked. "Gotta hand it to you, Darkling. You sure know how to make a clown look coordinated." The canine tugged his hat down and walked away to see if Scrooge had anything else to add to his report.

"That's "Dark WING," Mr. Clownhugger...!" Darkwing fumed bitterly. ""Funniest Moments," huh? I'll bet they left out the part where I bagged the bad guy, too! I know which channel I'm not watching anymore..."

"Don't sweat it, DW," Launchpad said lightly. "Not everyone watches that show. And, on the bright side, you were recognized as a hero. That's an improvement..."

Some cops getting into their car overheard Launchpad and laughed.

"Yeah, some hero."

"The guy can't even take an escalator without falling on his face..."

Darkwing wanted to make them eat their words, but Launchpad grabbed his cape and held him back while the squad car drove off.

"Oh yeah? Well let's see them try to catch Megavolt in a shopping mall..." Darkwing spat.

Gyro, finished with resetting the burglar alarms and defense system, was headed back to the bin and overheard Darkwing.

"Who's Megavolt?"

"Huh?" Darkwing looked up in momentary confusion. He'd forgotten how isolated his city was from the rest of the world. "Oh, Megs is just a mad scientist who turned himself into a living battery capable of shooting electricity from his fingertips..."

"Really? I'd like to see that..." Gyro smiled dreamily.

"No. You don't," Darkwing retorted grimly. "He's lost most of his memory, and he packs enough punch to light up half of St. Canard. Trust me, that is one rat you do not want to meet..."

Gyro stared, dumbfounded, and Darkwing took advantage of the relative quiet to approach Scrooge. The last of the police were just driving off and the zillionaire was heading back to the bin, Gosalyn shadowing him and avoiding eye-contact with her irate guardian. Darkwing forced himself to ignore her and focused on Scrooge.

"Here's your dime, Mr. McDuck. Safe and sound," Darkwing proffered the coin and doffed his hat in a sweeping bow.

Scrooge took the coin with a distasteful look on his face. "Yes, I can see that. So what do you think of me security measures?"

"Well, they are effective for most thieves, but they wouldn't be near enough for most of the crooks I face in St. Canard. Here's what I think you need..."

Darkwing, Scrooge, and Gyro took their conversation inside, where they gathered around a desk to peer at a map of the bin. Darkwing pointed out weak spots and make suggestions for changes. Gosalyn eavesdropped and offered some of her own pointers. Gyro took notes until she got to the shark tank and chainsaw-toting zombie, although he did like her suggestion of pepper spray and stink bombs in place of the pie gun. Darkwing waited until she started running out of steam before stepping in and pointedly yawning.

"Well, it's getting late, and I know a certain fan of mine who needs to get back home to her folks..." Darkwing arched his eyebrow at Gosalyn. She pouted, but a warning glare from him stopped her protests before they started.

"Thank you for coming, Darkwing," Scrooge proffered his hand. "I appreciate all the advice. I'll sleep well knowing me fortune is safe and snug."

"You're welcome, Mr. McDuck. Hopefully, once Mr. Gearloose finishes these adjustments, there won't be a need for a future visit, however..." Darkwing extracted a business card from his jacket. "If you have any questions, concerns, promos, et cetera et cetera... You have my number."

Scrooge smiled mildly and gave the card a scrutinizing glance before pocketing it. "I most certainly will keep in touch. For that matter, would you three prefer to spend the night at me mansion? It wouldn't be any trouble for my staff, and I have plenty of room..."

"Keen gear! A mansion! Can we, Da...Darkwing? Can we?" Gosalyn pleaded.

"Maybe some other time, Kiddo," Darkwing ruffled her hair. "Right now, we need to get you home. Parent's rules, ya know..." he tried to appear nonchalant about having a kid hanging around him.

Scrooge looked rather more thoughtful than Darkwing would have liked, but he didn't say anything. The ducks walked companionably back to the Thunderquack.


	6. Chapter 6

Meanwhile, back at S.H.U.S.H.

"That can't be possible! It's... It's...!" Giz stammered, staring at the image on Hooter's monitor.

"Yes, I'm afraid it's true..." Hooter said dejectedly. "Gizmoduck, I am asking you, on behalf of St. Canard's law enforcement, to arrest Darkwing Duck. While I'm aware that this could be a setup laid by his nemesis Negaduck, the police and DIA see this as proof that Darkwing's methods of apprehending criminals has too gone. The mayor wants him off the job immediately. I have already tried contacting Darkwing, but he has not responded yet. I was hoping you could track him down and persuade him to accompany you back to S.H.U.S.H. for questioning."

Gizmoduck's mouth went dry. How could he talk his way out of this? He wanted to do what was right, for both St. Canard and Darkwing, but how could this happen? Just hours after he learned Darkwing's secret identity, he was being asked to bring him in. Was it a coincidence, or did Providence set it up just so he, Gizmoduck, would hold the upper hand?

Hooter raised his brow suspiciously and Gizmo realized he was waiting for an answer. Giz swallowed hard and choked out the first thing that came to mind.

"I know where he is..."

Hooter looked relieved. "Excellent. Time is of the essence, of course..." he raised his brow again. "Is something wrong?"

"You could say that... Darkwing is...sort of a friend."

Hooter sighed and stared at his computer monitor sadly.

"I'm aware of that, Gizmoduck. I, too, am one of the fortunate few who call him more than an acquaintance. However, there are times when civic duty takes precedence over friendship."

Gizmo nodded and started to leave, but what Hooter said next stopped him in his tracks.

"Gizmoduck, please use extreme caution. Darkwing may be innocent, but he is volatile and unpredictable. Do not approach him alone unless you have a convincing argument to insure he comes through his own volition. Even then, if you have the least bit of trouble, call us. He is a potentially lethal force..."

""Lethal?" I know he's trained in the martial arts and all, but really, Sir, an army couldn't harm me..." Gizmo pointed a thumb confidently at his suit.

"Don't underestimate him, Gizmoduck," Hooter said darkly. "You've seen firsthand how Darkwing can incapacitate an enemy with a single blow. He may be a good friend to both of us, but I am certain, if his judgement is clouded by anger, Darkwing is more than capable of being a threat to anyone. Especially to someone he already knows and has had ample opportunity to study the weaknesses of..."

Hooter let the warning hang in the air between them. Gizmoduck stared back at the director before nodding slightly.

"I understand, Sir."

Minutes later, Gizmoduck was back in the air, en route to Duckburg. He waited until he was outside St. Canard airspace before dialing his employer.

"Mr. McDuck?" Gizmo swerved around a flock of geese and sped up to get way from their raucous honking. "So sorry to bother you, Sir, but is Darkwing Duck there by any chance?"

Scrooge's voice was a bit distorted by static, but Gizmo could hear his reply on the speaker inside his helmet.

"Yes and no," the elder duck replied. "He's still on my property, but Launchpad is about ready to take off..."

"Don't let them leave! I have to talk to Darkwing right away!" Gizmo barely cleared a treetop, his tire tearing a branch off. One of the leaves flew into his mouth. As Gizmo spat it out, Scrooge competed for his attention with adamant questions.

"Why didn't you call him yourself? Or call here earlier? You knew what he was here for. And what do you need to talk about so urgently? Did that agency in St. Canard involve you in something?"

"Y..." Gizmoduck paused and slowed his flight. He couldn't lie to Scrooge, but he would have preferred to say almost anything but the truth. He could practically hear Scrooge tapping his cane impatiently, and he was also aware that every second his boss spent on the phone gave Darkwing a bigger lead. He finally spat it out.

"Yes. Darkwing's wanted for questioning and I'm on my way to bring him in!" Giz bemoaned.

"Questioning? As in, police questioning?"

"It's...complicated. Just delay him if you can!" Gizmo was getting anxious and Scrooge heard it in his voice.

"Alright. I'll do what I can..." Scrooge hung up and grabbed the headset for the two-way radio on his desk. "Launchpad. Can you hear me? Come in Launchpad!"

Scrooge threw off the headset and raced out the front door of his mansion. The Thunderquack was airborne. Scrooge ran across the yard waving his arms.

"Launchpad!"

The jet flew on without a sign of its passengers having seen him. Scrooge stomped back into the house and called Giz back.

"Gizma'duck. They've already left. Now tell me what was so important..."

After hearing Gizmoduck's edited version of the story, Scrooge promptly called J. Gander Hooter. He had met the director in person before and gotten the number for his secretary so Scrooge would not have to play "phone tag" to reach him. After being put through to Hooter, Scrooge jumped right to the point.

"Director. I just talked with Gizma'duck and I demand to know what you're doing about this Darkwing Duck scandal!"

Hooter paused, taken aback, before regaining his composure.

"Ah, Mr. McDuck," he started calmly, his tone warm but not overly impressed. "I'm afraid that information is classified, Sir."

"I'm sure it is, but Darkwing just left from MY money bin minutes ago and is in the air. Being as how you know him better than me, I wanna know what are the chances he'll come after me..."

Hooter's tone was amazed when he regained his voice. "Are you asking if Darkwing Duck would steal from you...?"

"Aye. Or use me friends as hostages..." Scrooge commented dryly, mopping his forehead.

Hooter took his time before answering.

"Mr. McDuck, I would have you recall that over a year ago Mr. Duck was single-handedly responsible for saving St. Canard from takeover involving nearly every villain both of our cities have seen. I would also like to remind you that he freed you and me personally from several difficult situations when we were captive, including arranging transportation with the taxi fleet..."

"Yes, yes, ah remember..." Scrooge said quietly, waving his hand at the phone even though nobody but Duckworth was there to see him. "Ah also remember a particularly vile villain that looked like Darkwing..."

"Yes..." Hooter replied, anticipating Scrooge's next thought. "Negaduck is, in every way possible, both identical and the polar opposite of Darkwing. Negaduck takes perverse delight in fooling everyone into thinking he's Darkwing, but once you've been around them both for a few times, you start to notice differences in voice and manner."

"How do I know which one was at me bin?"

"Was he alone?"

"No. He had his pilot and a little girl with him. Both of which ah can guarantee are the genuine article," Scrooge said with a smile. His face softened as he thought about them and, when the directer replied, Hooter's smile was evident in his tone.

"Then rest assured, Mr. McDuck. That was the real Darkwing."

Before Scrooge could start to relax, Hooter took the conversation to a more serious level.

"Mr. McDuck, how long was Darkwing with you?"

Scrooge glanced at his watch. "About an hour and a half. Why? Is this pertinent to the case?"

Hooter sighed. "Unfortunately not... I must get back to work now, Mr. McDuck. It was a pleasure hearing from you. And do not let Gizmoduck upset you too much over this matter. Speaking for personal acquaintance, I can tell you Darkwing is many things, but he has a very high moral standard. I am certain you have nothing to worry about."

Scrooge smiled. "Thanks, Director Hooter. I will keep that in mind."

A little while later, the Thunderquack drew within sight of St. Canard's city limits. The central towers were visible on the horizon and the urban sprawl was beneath them. The duck trio was relatively silence. Launchpad broke the reverie after a glance down.

"Hmm. Looks like the road crew is out. Traffic's backed up for miles..." he said.

"As long as we're not sitting in it, I don't care," Darkwing grouched. "I never should have let you talk me into going!"

"Aw chill out, Dad," Gosalyn said from the back seat. "It wasn't that bad."

"Yeah," Launchpad piped up. "You got to see inside Mr. McDee's money bin, and you didn't even get hurt! Well aside from the mouse traps, heh heh..."

"It's not funny," Darkwing slouched further into his seat. "Any one of those traps could have taken out an eye or a limb. He's just lucky I'm not pressing a lawsuit for reckless endangerment!"

"Ha," Gosalyn said snidely. "This from the guy whose catchphrase is "let's get dangerous!""

"YOU were supposed to stay in the plane, remember?" Darkwing snapped.

"Yeah, well it's a good thing I didn't because you would have gotten pounded and those Beagle Boys might have gotten away!"

"Gos has a point there, DW. You disabled most of the traps so the bin was easy pickings for the Beagle Boys..." Launchpad said.

"AND I handled them MYSELF. How's That for independent?" Gosalyn crossed her arms triumphantly.

"I call it luck." Darkwing replied, leaning back in his seat. "You could have been hurt or taken hostage."

"Hostage! I'll have you remember..." Gosalyn broke off as she glanced out the side window. "Hey, what is Gizmoduck doing...?"

"WHAT! Where!" Darkwing pressed his face to the window. "What is that tin turkey doing back on my turf? And why is he waving to the Thunderquack...?"

"Huh, wonder why he didn't call..." Launchpad started as he leaned over to check the radio. "Oops...Heh heh, I kinda forgot to turn it on..."

Launchpad flipped the switch and Gizmoduck's frantic calls sounded over the speaker.

"Darkwing! Stop! We need to talk! Launchpad, can you hear me?"

"Sounds like trouble, DW," Launchpad said as he slowed the jet down.

"No kidding. However, if it has anything to do with McDuck, it can wait until later. Or better yet, let Gizmodunce handle it, since he's McDuck's big shot hero!" Darkwing sat back in his seat with his arms crossed stubbornly.

At that moment, the computer screen flashed with the S.H.U.S.H. insignia and Hooter came on the monitor.

"Darkwing! Thank heavens I've reached you! We need you to report to S.H.U.S.H. immediately!"

Darkwing perked up. "Oh? And what cataclysmic catastrophe has closed down the city in my absence? A FOWL plan for world domination coming to fruition? A foreign missile crisis? One of my archenemies hanging the police out to dry? Stock market crash?"

"Something too sensitive for anything but a meeting in person," Hooter replied evenly, mopping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

"I'm on my way, J. Gander! Darkwing over and out," Darkwing switched off the screen and rubbed his hands together excitedly. "I can't wait! Something sensitive enough to warrant such secrecy could only mean something drastic! Like a super-secret spy operation or stealth insertion behind enemy lines! Something that will skyrocket my career above and beyond all other heroes. I can see the headlines now! "**Superhero Darkwing Duck Single-handedly Saves Civilized Society From Subatomic Nuclear Crisis!**""

"Yeah right..." Gosalyn rolled her eyes.

"Uh, DW, Gizmoduck is still hailing us over the radio. Do you want me to tell him to meet us at S.H.U.S.H.?" Launchpad asked.

Darkwing straightened. "Of course not! What part of supersensitive secret didn't you understand? We can't have him dallying around, dropping in on our conversation! Lose him, LP!"

"Roger that, DW!"

Launchpad turned the Thunderquack in dizzying arrays of twists, turns, loop-de-loops, and narrow misses as he zigzagged across the city. Within moments, Gizmoduck was out of sight. But to their mutual surprise, police motorcycles followed in the Thunderquack's wake. Darkwing wasn't sure what to make of it, but he told Launchpad to lose them as well, so the pilot pointed the plane up, using the cloud cover to hide them from view. As they climbed the sky, flashes of light erupted from below.

"Keen gear! A shootout!" Gosalyn exclaimed from her seat.

"What do you mean a "shootout?"" Darkwing asked, pressing his binoculars to the window.

A muzzle flash from a police-held gun confirmed Gosalyn's guess and Darkwing saw, to his amazement, that the police were aiming at the plane. Didn't they realize they were endangering citizens with the hazard of falling bullets? And the police should have learned by now that the Thunderquack was impervious to their low-caliber arsenal. Why were they still shooting? At him, no less?

"Launchpad," Darkwing said seriously without looking away from the window. "As soon as you drop me off, take Gosalyn home."

"What! How come?" Gosalyn objected.

"Because I said so!" Darkwing snapped before dropping his voice and turning around in his seat to address her. "Look Gos, something is up with the police and I don't want to chance your safety. I will tell you everything I can when I get back. Just promise me you'll stay indoors, by a phone, and away from windows. Got that?"

"But I want to stay with you! Who is going to watch your back if Launchpad's with me?"

The plane had leveled out by now, so Darkwing left his seat to hug Gosalyn and kiss her forehead.

"I appreciate your concern, Sweetie. But don't you worry: Launchpad will be back by my side before anything happens. Call the Muddlefoots in the morning. You know the drill..."

"Yeah, yeah," Gosalyn rolled her eyes. "Stay with them until I hear from you, Launchpad, or Morgana..."

"That's right. And you have Gizmoduck' and Fenton Crackshell's numbers if Morgana is busy..."

"Fenton? Why would I call him?" Gosalyn screwed up her face to stare at her dad in confusion. Her question caught him off-guard and he fumbled for an explanation.

"Why? Uh... Because McDuck likes you and offered a place to stay. And Fenton knows you. He can take you to McDuck or someplace else in Duckburg if things get out of hand here..."

Gosalyn's eyes widened in alarm. All of them knew the potential risks Darkwing faced whenever he took a mission from S.H.U.S.H. and they knew failure was more than possible. Although Gosalyn still objected to the idea of being away from her father's side, she wordlessly returned Darkwing's hug and held on as long as she could.

All too soon, Launchpad informed them they were above S.H.U.S.H. HQ. Darkwing smiled confidently and ruffled Gosalyn's hair before opening the hatch to the ramp in the Thunderquack's beak.

Darkwing leapt out of the open bill and steered his fall toward the helicopter landing pad on the roof. He flared out his cape and floated down just a foot off of the target. He brushed off his suit with a proud smile and took a step toward the door. Suddenly a dozen armed guards swarmed out from behind the air conditioner and doorway and surrounded him.

Darkwing swallowed his surprise and greeted them cordially. "Ah, a welcoming party. Well, carry on with what you were doing, gentlemen. I am late for my meeting with Director Hooter."

"Lower your weapons, Darkwing!" a burly agent called. "And raise your hands over your head!"

"Moi?" Darkwing gestured to himself with exaggerated surprise. "Surely you jest! I came on direct orders and I'm being treated like a criminal?"

"This is your last warning, Darkwing. Drop your weapons, or we will engage!" the canine exclaimed, his fellow agents chambering rounds to validate his threat.

Darkwing gulped. "Uh, heh heh, maybe we could discuss this over a game of cards?"

The agents opened fire, aiming high to avoid hitting him. Darkwing cartwheeled, somersaulted, and flipped to dodge the bullets, vaulting over the heads of two stunned agents, and dove over the side of the building. Again, he used his cape to control his fall, but after two seconds later, a couple of bullets ripped through the fabric. Darkwing lost his lift and had to activate his grappler to save himself from a hard landing on the pavement.

Before Darkwing had a chance to catch his breath and mop his brow, more agents poured out on the sidewalk and fired at him. As S.H.U.S.H. was too far away from its neighboring buildings for Darkwing to swing out of firing range, Darkwing broke the window, dropping to the carpet in a roll. The feline office occupant shrieked in alarm.

Darkwing doffed his hat in greeting and raced out into the hall, racing up the two flights of stairs toward Hooter's office. Armed guards met him half way up. Darkwing used his grappler to reach the next floor. He rushed over to Hooter's secretary.

"Tell J. Gander I'm here for that meeting..." he panted, hoping she didn't have a gun.

The secretary pressed the call button compliantly and Darkwing called his thanks over his shoulder as he scurried to the door before she could change her mind. He eschewed his usual dramatic entry, settling for slamming the door closed and leaning against it, gasping.

Hooter rose from his desk. "Darkwing, I'm glad you could make it. I'm afraid I have a very serious matter to discuss with you over the break-in at Della's Diamonds."

"Della's Diamonds?" Darkwing repeated, puzzled. "What does that have to do with national security?"

Hooter lowered his head gravely. The bookcase behind him swung open to reveal Agent Gryzlikoff and the "Darkwing Squad," plus Dr. Bellum with a tranquilizer gun. Darkwing gulped as he realized he'd walked into a trap.

"What's this all about, J. Gander? Why is everyone after me?" he asked nervously, eyeing the various weapons and familiar faces. "I was in Duckburg an hour ago. Call Scrooge McDuck! He'll verify my story!"

"Actually, Darkwing, this is about an incident last night..." Hooter said evenly.

"Well, I was in Duckburg part of last night as well. I was investigating a robbery at the McDuck Museum of Natural History! I'm sure it's connected to the jewelry store robberies over the past couple of nights..."

Hooter looked relieved and gestured for his team to stand down.

"Thank goodness. I hope that the museum time stamp will provide the alibi we need... Darkwing, there's been a homicide, and the evidence points to you."

"ME?" Darkwing jumped.

Gryzlikoff leaned close to the director's chair. "Should ve be telling him details, Director? He could be making up story..."

"Point taken, Agent Gryzlikoff," Hooter sighed. "Agents Donkey and Dog, please escort Mr. Duck to interrogation while Agent Dodo informs the police."

"Informs the police of what?" Darkwing demanded, every sense on full alert. He backed away from his former "trainees" and looked frantically at Hooter. Gryzlikoff smirked and blocked his view of the desk.

"To inform them of your capture..." the bear said pleasantly.

Darkwing gulped.

The agents might have apprehended him immediately, but for the untimely entrance of a third party. Gizmoduck barged through the door, knocking Agent Dog flat with the backswing.

"Director Hooter! I lost the Thunderquack! Darkwing has gotten..." Giz finally looked around the room and saw the aforementioned duck smile and salute him farewell before flying through the door.

"Wait! Darkwing! Heel!" Giz cried after him, the exhaust from his suit smoking Hooter's office and making the agents inside cough.

Gizmoduck caught up in seconds, snagging Darkwing's cape. Darkwing choked from having his air cut off so abruptly, but he wasn't ready to give in yet. He grabbed his gas gun and fired a canister of itching powder at Gizmo's unprotected neck. Gizmoduck seemed unaffected.

"Ha! Try as you may, you masked miscreant, but the might of Gizmoduck shall prevail!" Gizmo boasted, making Darkwing snarl and squirm all the harder to get away from the boisterous superhero. However, the itching powder soon did its work and Gizmo forgot everything except the intense sensations racing up and down his neck and jaw.

"Ah ooh ee ah!" Gizmo activated several of his gizmos to try to scratch and relieve the itching and Darkwing took the opportunity to extract his cape. Gizmo saw him run and shouted. "Stop! You're only making this worse for yourself!"

"Oh yeah?" Darkwing called over his shoulder, noting with satisfaction that the residual powder in the air had also affected the S.H.U.S.H. agents. "Try to catch me then, Tinman!"

Dr. Bellum fired the tranquilizer gun, but Darkwing dodged the dart by dashing back into the stairwell, slamming the door between him and the projectile. Darkwing heard Gizmo rev up his engine in pursuit and he sighed.

"Too bad I can't rewind to Wednesday, before everything started going haywire this week... Where is a time traveling golf cart when you need one...?"

Darkwing raced down the stairs, sliding down the handrail to avoid a couple of agents on the next floor, and headed for the garage. As he paused to choose which direction to take, he caught sight of a familiar shape out of the corner of his eye. The Ratcatcher! It was repaired and ready to go home.

Darkwing impulsively kissed the beak-shaped hood before switching his hat with his helmet and gearing up. His beloved bike helped him evade agents in the garage and, when he saw the exit barricaded, he jumped the concrete divider, landing safely on the sidewalk. S.H.U.S.H. was only four stories high and the agents had not anticipated his escape route. Darkwing was halfway down the street before anyone took up the chase.

It did occur to Darkwing that S.H.U.S.H. might have installed something on the computer, or hidden a tracking device on the bike somewhere, but right now, he was more concerned with losing his pursuers than the repercussions. At least his bike handled the same.

He caught sight of a police barricade in time to veer down an alley and took multiple lightning turns to keep out of sight. He backtracked and looped around thoroughfares, choosing smaller side streets and going the wrong way down a one way street before turning off again.

Just as he was beginning to relax, he saw a shadow cast on top of his bike. He accelerated and heard a SWOOSH! He glanced back and saw a net tangled around the Ratcatcher's "wings," having narrowly missed landing on top of Darkwing himself. The source was obvious even before Darkwing glanced up. Gizmoduck hovered overhead, reeling in the rope attached to the net.

Darkwing set the bike on autopilot and climbed back to cut the rope with a pair of shears he kept on hand for Bushroot.

Gizmoduck flew down to intercept. "Stop right there, Darkwing. I'll have you know that evading arrest, damaging private property, and assaulting law enforcement are against the law. If you don't come peacefully, I'll be forced to press charges..."

"Sorry, but I doubt my checking account will cover it..." Darkwing replied as he snipped the rope. He tossed the net back at Gizmoduck. Gizmo barely swerved in time to avoid getting tripped by it and sped up.

"Darkwing Duck..." Gizmo drew alongside the Ratcatcher. "I am going to count to ten, and if you don't stop and pull over by then, I will stop this bike..."

"Fine, go ahead and count! Why don't you close your eyes while you're at it..." Darkwing said.

"Fine. 1...2..." Gizmo started.

"By jove, he's actually counting..." Darkwing said to himself.

He waved his hand experimentally in front of Gizmo's visor. The duck didn't seem to notice. Darkwing smirked and stepped on the gas. He hadn't even reached the next crossroad when he was snatched out of his seat by a mechanical hand on the back of his jacket. Gizmo hauled him in with a lofty smile.

"Thought you could get away with a trick, eh Wingy? Sorry to disappoint you, but Gizmoduck is full of surprises..."

Darkwing tried prying the robotic fingers off him, but a second hand seized his right arm. As it squeezed his wrist, Darkwing's attention focused entirely on that limb. He frantically tried freeing himself, but the hand squeezed harder, forcing a pained yelp from Darkwing.

Gizmoduck's face fell, aghast at what he had just done. He recalled that, five months ago, Darkwing had worn a cast on the very same arm the Gizmosuit had just wrenched.

"Oh my gosh! I didn't mean to hurt you!" Gizmo quickly and gently pulled the mallard into his own arms, cradling him like a child. "I'm so sorry, Wingy... Please, forgive me..."

Not nearly as hurt as he was making out to be, Darkwing smirked and played on Gizmo's sympathies.

"Ow... Oh, ow... I think you...dislocated it..." Darkwing cradled his limp right hand.

"A dislocation, eh? I could fix that up..." Gizmo said hopefully. "I earned the First-Aid merit badge in Junior Woodchucks."

Darkwing gasped. "Wait. The Ratcatcher... There's a medical kit in...the glovebox... If you... take me back... I can...set it myself..." Darkwing panted, milking it for all he was worth.

Gizmo caught up to the Ratcatcher again and held it steady so Darkwing could slide back into the seat. Darkwing reached for the glovebox and Gizmo let go of the bike to assist the crime fighter in tending to his injury. Just what Darkwing had been counting on.

Darkwing accelerated and whipped around a street corner, taking the next curve to loop around the block and double back behind Gizmoduck. He pulled off the road and ducked down behind a parallel-parked car, counting on the vehicle to hide him. He idled the engine, cutting off the noise. As he'd expected, Gizmo didn't look back once. He continued on the same course Darkwing had taken. Darkwing waited until Gizmo was out of sight before bolting down the street, taking a different turn.

He wound up and down the whole neighborhood, throwing Gizmo off with the noise and crazy turns. Even when Gizmoduck took up pursuit from the air, he couldn't be able to keep the bike in sight for more than a glimpse. Darkwing was an expert at maneuvering around his city. And the police had only blocked the major arteries so far. Darkwing was keeping to the side streets.

Darkwing finally decided he'd pressed his luck enough and looked for another way to avoid capture. After checking all around him, including a suspicious glance up in case a traffic camera was recording him, Darkwing determined he was alone for the time being and veered off to one of his secret passages below the city. Not trusting S.H.U.S.H., Darkwing reluctantly abandoned the Ratcatcher in an alley two blocks from an old subway entrance. After making sure he was unobserved, he ducked into the subway tunnel, finding his way by memory and touch to a concealed door that led to an even older tunnel. Darkwing slipped into what had formerly been an abandoned bomb shelter, which he had modified to suit his needs.

_(Author's note: the bolthole idea was inspired by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories)_

Darkwing changed costume and quickly combed and rinsed his head feathers in the sink he had installed. Being wanted by the police was nothing new, but having S.H.U.S.H. after him was a different ballgame. He wouldn't put anything past them, for even with budget cuts and government oversight, they still had access to some pretty incredible technology. Their own developmental team had assisted in some of it.

Darkwing put on slippers and took another concealed entrance to the tunnel system connected to Darkwing Tower. He pressed a button and waited for his

"ride," an automated chair rigged to a track. It rolled him into a vacuum tunnel and took him up to the spinning chair in the tower.

Darkwing leapt to his feet on full alert, expecting to find Gizmoduck waiting for him with a bevy of cops and armed agents. To his relief, and slight disappointment, the tower was unoccupied. He sighed heavily and shuffled across the room, checking the lifts for the Thunderquack and Ratcatcher automatically. It pained him to see the bike missing, but he was grateful to see the Thunderquack. The smell of hot motor oil and exhaust still lingered in the air, suggesting the plane had arrived not long ago.

Darkwing climbed to the computer console and checked his crime monitor and e-mail. He had multiple messages from Hooter and alerts on the arrest warrant for him, but nothing else had happened in his absence. He thought about tapping into S.H.U.S.H.'s network to research the warrant, but decided against it for now. Most likely, S.H.U.S.H. had already blocked him out of their database. He started to hack into the police network when he recalled he hadn't checked on his family yet. He shut down his workstation and, after a quick shower and change, headed home.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note: Things are picking up. A lot happens in this chapter, including the introduction of an original character._

* * *

><p>Gizmoduck's head was whirling. He had lost track of Darkwing. Again. He called J. Gander on his elbow phone and apologized for losing the masked mallard. Hooter was gracious in his reply, but the director reiterated the importance of catching Darkwing before the police did.<p>

With a twinge of guilt, Gizmo agreed and returned to the air. He scanned the streets below for another hour, but by then he figured Darkwing would have gone home to talk to his family. The thought of the Mallards skipping town didn't make Gizmoduck's job any easier... Especially since he wasn't sure how his next meeting with Darkwing would go.

Gizmo was pretty certain he could talk Darkwing into going back to S.H.U.S.H. if the agents didn't try to arrest Darkwing again. However, if Darkwing escaped and Gizmo had to pursue him again, there was a distinct possibility that he would need all of his suit's functions to arrest the crime fighter. And after today's flying and yesterday's activities, the Gizmosuit's battery was getting low.

Normally, he wouldn't worry. As Fenton, he could hang out with the Mallards and let his suit charge in the guest room. As Gizmoduck, he would have had Launchpad hook him up to the Thunderquack for a jump start. Plus he had a spare battery to swap out, just in case. However, with the homicide hanging over his head and his relationship with Darkwing already fractured, Gizmo wasn't sure he would get a chance to charge the suit once he got back on Darkwing's trail.

Deciding the best thing to do for now was rest and charge the suit, Gizmo ducked into a parking garage and changed back to his civilian identity. He walked out with briefcase in hand and headed to a phone booth to call the closest, and cheapest, hotel. After making a reservation, he called Ma'ma to let her know he was staying in St. Canard. Hearing her complaining about missing one of her soap operas gave him a sense of security as nothing else did. And right now he sorely needed that comfort...

* * *

><p>Back at the Mallard residence...<p>

Drake sighed and leaned back on the couch, ready for the day to end. He had tried steering Gosalyn around the truth, but she was not taking the hint.

"So how come the police were shooting at us if all J. Gander wanted to do was talk?" she demanded.

"I don't know, Gos," Drake admitted. "Maybe they thought I was Negaduck..."

"That's a lame excuse and you know it!" Gosalyn got up in his face, pressing a finger to his beak. "Now I want some answers and don't you make something up!"

"Gosalyn..." Drake warned.

She realized she was standing on his stomach, pinning him to the couch. She flopped down beside him, crossing her arms sullenly. He sighed again and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Look, Kiddo, I'd rather not share this with you..." He raised his finger to still her protests. "But...I'm not going to mince words either. I don't have any answers right now. All I know for certain is someone was killed and I'm getting blamed for it..."

""Killed?"" Gosalyn squeaked. "As in, murdered?"

Drake grimaced. "That's the gist of it. I was about to get some answers before "Gristle-cough" interrupted Hooter. Now I'm not only "Wanted" for a crime I didn't commit, I'm also completely clueless on where to begin my own investigation. I checked the police reports, but other than the arrest warrant, there weren't any details... The newspapers haven't printed anything on the case yet, nor is there anything on the radio. I guess I'll have to find out what's going on with the rest of St. Canard..." Drake grudgingly turned on the TV.

Gosalyn gazed up at him out of the corner of her eye. As Drake flipped through the channels, Gosalyn laid a hand on his outstretched arm.

"Dad, give Darkwing a break for now, okay? I don't want you to get arrested or..." she gulped and continued. "worse. Not without S.H.U.S.H. backing you up..."

Drake smiled gently and stroked her hair. "I know, Kiddo. I've been thinking along the same lines. Until I know more, I'm not even sure if I have an alibi..."

Gosalyn hugged him, resting her head over his heart.  
>"Just promise me you'll stay safe."<p>

He smiled warmly and continued stroking her hair.  
>"I promise..."<p>

* * *

><p>Fenton waited until Monday afternoon to check on the Mallards. Sunday night, he was simply too worn out to confront anyone. He checked in to his room at the hotel, plugged in the suit, and went out for a late dinner. His dreams were plagued with ninja ducks dressed in purple capes and Beagle Boys until the coffee pot started brewing.<p>

As soon as Fenton sat down for breakfast, his boss called. Fenton had to explain to Scrooge why he was in a hotel instead of chasing down the museum robber. Fenton could tell Scrooge was none too pleased to hear he was taking a break from crime fighting, but Scrooge softened when Fenton explained the situation with Darkwing. Although Fenton was relieved to hear Scrooge give Darkwing the benefit of a doubt, and pleased that his boss would support him in whatever he needed, it didn't make his job any easier.

Fenton spent part of the afternoon waiting for the suit to finish charging while he paced the room. He couldn't help but wonder: number one, why would Darkwing kill an already defeated thief; and two, what did the diamond thefts have to do with anything? The two cases had to be related somehow. Fenton knew Darkwing didn't steal the diamonds. He'd been on the scene after the robbery, and they had both seen the guy in the ski mask run away and put up a fight. Besides which, Fenton just couldn't picture Darkwing as a thief. A psychopathic ninja, maybe; a killer, possibly, with the right motivation; but not a thief. Darkwing could have used his talents for evil long ago. And Fenton was inclined to trust Drake Mallard if nothing else. That guy loved his daughter too much to jeopardize her safety and the security of her home.

Fenton brightened at that train of thought. He would go to the Mallard's home and, if Drake was there, he would convince him to turn himself in for Gosalyn's sake. Appealing to Drake's fatherly heart would not infringe on Darkwing's oversized ego.

So two o'clock found Fenton standing on the doorstep to the Mallard's house, holding peace offerings. He had Hamburger Hippo for Launchpad, a game for Gosalyn, and a tub of pistachio prune ice cream for Drake. He also had picked up several special edition newspapers, just in case he needed something to shock Drake into his senses. The only thing he did not have on him was his Gizmoduck suit. For the moment, he was willing to give Drake a chance to surrender quietly. If Drake was even home...

Fenton craned his neck to peek through the window and rang the bell impatiently. He hoped Drake had resumed his normal life and not skipped town. He was not disappointed, for the door opened to a very flustered looking Mallard.

"Fenton! What are you doing here?" Drake asked crossly, his brows knitted in suspicion.

Fenton couldn't pretend he was here for a casual visit and Hooter's warning suddenly came back to him._  
>"Do not approach him alone... he's a potentially lethal force..."<em>

Fenton cleared his throat, sweat pouring off his brow and staining his purple jacket. "Uh, can I come in for a moment? I don't want to make a scene in front of your neighbors."

Drake frowned fiercely, looking like he intended to say "no," but, after a furtive glance next door, he stepped back to admit his visitor.

Fenton saw the Muddlefoots in their yard, gardening and barbecuing and knew it would take little provocation for them to come over and visit. Turning down a caller was a surefire way to invite them in...

"So... where's Gos and Launchpad?" Fenton started casually, placing his peace offerings on the kitchen table and rearranging his hold on the papers.

"Goslayn is still at school and Launchpad is out. Now, to what do I owe this unwonted pleasure," Drake growled through his teeth.

Fenton flinched. He delayed answering as much as possible by putting the food in the frig, but all the grand speeches he'd prepared for this moment fled his memory. He decided to just take the direct approach and hope for the best. Setting a firm expression on his face and adjusting his tie, he used his Gizmoduck voice to address the scowling mallard.

"Darkwing Duck, you are hereby arrested on behalf of the City of St. Canard."

"What!" Drake jumped a foot back.

Daring to move closer to the stunned duck, Fenton placed a tentative hand on his shoulder.  
>"I'm sorry it's come down to this, Wingy. If you will please gather your things and come out to the car with me quietly, you can change clothes in the back. If this case goes to court, I might even be able to talk the judge into reducing the sentence."<p>

Drake looked around wildly, and Fenton realized he might have made a mistake coming here alone. Could he stand up to the crime fighter in combat? He was pretty sure the answer was a flat no without the Gizmosuit, which he had left in the car as a gesture of good faith.

However, Drake did not take a defensive stance as Fenton half-expected. Instead, Drake shrugged off the restricting hand and marched into the living room. Fenton followed him warily.

Drake turned back to face him, his hardened expression unreadable.  
>"You know I won't surrender quietly…" he crossed his arms, his determination to stay put obvious.<p>

Fenton threw up his hands in exasperation. "But Drake, you're a criminal now! You crossed a line with that incident the other day!"

The defensive mallard's eyebrows shot up, clearly shaken.  
>"What incident?"<p>

Fenton pulled the newspapers out and held them up for Drake to read, watching him over his hand. Drake's face alternated between annoyance, genuine shock, horror, and something else… Fury? Fenton seldom saw such emotion in the other crime fighter's eyes when he was unmasked.

"**Darkwing Duck: Hero or Monster?"**  
>"<strong>Masked Marauder Turned Murderer!"<strong>  
>"<strong>Police Close Borders in Search of Masked Menace!"<strong>

Drake eyed the incriminating headlines with growing alarm.  
>"This is crazy! You really think that was me?" he demanded, his voice stretched.<p>

"I don't know what to think anymore!" Fenton replied, his hands shaking slightly as he set the papers on the couch. "My gut tells me you're innocent, but S.H.U.S.H. wants me to arrest you! I can't just let you walk away, I'd be aiding and abetting!"

Drake held up his hands as he put more distance between them.  
>"Now wait just a second! I didn't kill anyone! I never have! I purposefully designed my arsenal to take down crooks as painlessly as possible. Which is why I carry sleeping gas, itching powder, tear gas, laughing gas, Plaster of Paris, tacky glue, chewing gum…The only things potentially deadly are the weedkiller and shears, and Bushroot regenerates." Drake tapped his jaw in thought for a moment. "Although there was a time I carried a machete after a jungle trek…and an ax and bow. Of course arrows serve multiple non-lethal purposes…"<p>

Fenton shook his head. The past didn't matter at the moment.  
>"Sorry, Wingy, but I have my orders." Fenton crossed his arms. "I came as a friend, but if you continue to resist, I'll have to use force…"<p>

"Pah!" Drake scoffed. "Some friend…"Let me in so I can arrest you in your own house!" Sorry, not interested."

Fenton squeezed his fists. "Oooh! Why do you always have to be so difficult?"

"Well get used to it, Robobreath! I don't need to squeeze into a one-wheeled trash compacter to prove I'm a hero!"

"That's it, Darkwing! I'm taking you in, even if I have to reveal your identity!"

Even as the words left his mouth, Fenton regretted it. The shock and outrage on his former ally's face, along with the knowledge that his own secret identity could be compromised if S.H.U.S.H. made Darkwing talk, made Fenton wish he could take it all back. Seeing Drake clench and relax his fists and breath deeply to calm himself made Fenton wish again that he'd brought backup. Gizmoduck had seen Darkwing lose it simply because he'd been offered help.

"I don't care what you or the cops say," Drake replied defensively, his voice leveling as he continued. "If my sterling (slightly tarnished) reputation and our past partnership don't convince you I'm innocent, I can only promise you this. You do NOT want me as your enemy…"

Fenton braced himself. "Is that a threat?"

"A warning. Nothing more, nothing less…Take it however you want."

Drake took two long strides forward, forcing Fenton to retreat slightly. The mallard seemed taller and more deadly than Fenton had ever seen him. The accountant wanted to melt into the floor under the icy stare.

Seeing Fenton's reaction, Darkwing's anger faded. His voice, when he spoke again, was soft and calm, yet the underlying darkness in it chilled Fenton nonetheless.

"Just so we're clear, there are a few things I don't tolerate from anybody," Drake said levelly.

Fenton nodded.

Drake's eyes flashed as he spoke. "Rule number one: never, EVER involve my family. Hurting me will ultimately crush Gosalyn. Whatever you do from here out, remember her."

Drake's face softened for a moment as he thought of Gosalyn, but the expression turned feral in the next breath. Drake grabbed Fenton's lapels, getting close to his face.

"Rule number two: this house is off-limits. I will defend my property for Gosalyn's sake. My personal relationship with you isn't worth two beans compared to her. I will do anything to protect that girl. Understand?"

"Perfectly," Fenton replied in an even tone. He didn't want to reveal his fear, nor did he personally want to involve Gosalyn at all. That was something they agreed on. Both heroes would do anything for their loved ones, even if it was illegal.

Drake studied Fenton's face carefully. Seeming satisfied, he released his captive.  
>"We will always be on the same side, Fenton. If you believe nothing else, remember that." Drake stepped back.<p>

"What are you going to do now?" Fenton asked guardedly as he straightened his coat and vest.

Drake sighed wearily. "The only thing I can…"

Without looking back, Drake pulled something out of his vest that looked suspiciously like a grenade. Thinking he meant to kill himself, Fenton sprang forward in an attempt to rescue him.

"No wait!"

Fenton landed in a thick cloud of acrid smoke. Coughing and waving a hand at the fumes, Fenton groped forward, finding the smoke bomb. He threw it aside as he searched, but he already knew what he was going to find. Drake, and Darkwing Duck, had vanished.

* * *

><p>Drake leaned against the wall, willing his pulse to slow. He'd slipped through the garage into a concealed trap door that led to the tunnel under his house. Not even Gosalyn knew of this exit. He had started on it last month while she was at the movies and he had completed it last night so that he could go to the tower even if someone was in the living room. He couldn't risk using the spinning chairs with Fenton there.<p>

He knew Fenton might try to meet him at Darkwing Tower with the Gizmosuit. Drake didn't want to get caught at his hideout... or at home. He could see it now; Gosalyn coming home in time to see Gizmoduck hauling her pathetic-looking plainclothes hero to jail.

The fact that he had purposefully told Launchpad to take Gosalyn and the Muddlefoot brothers to the park to avoid this very scenario wouldn't soften the blow any for her. Most likely, she would go on a rampage and get hauled away by social services. Drake shivered at the thought. For him, that mental image was more frightening than any of his heroic battles had been...

He needed to find out what had happened. He didn't even know who he'd been accused of killing. The fastest way to find out was to get his own copy of the press release; one that he could read at his leisure.

Exiting through an old subway tunnel, he merged with the crowd. Picking up a discarded paper from the ground, he ducked into an alley to read. His thoughts were racing to put the pieces together.

_Flintheart Glomgold, the second wealthiest duck in the world? _he gawked._ That is preposterous! Darkwing has only been to Duckburg twice, and I haven't been in years._

Drake continued scanning the article._  
><em>

_ Hold the phone! Glomgold was incognito when he was found! Why, anyone could have knocked off the old buzzard! Why blame me?  
>Wait a second...What was Glomgold doing here in St. Canard? In disguise, no less? He should have been in a limo, meeting with business leaders and charlatans. Not in front of a store owned by his competitor in the middle of the night! Looks like Darkwing Duck needs to do a little investigating...<em>

Drake tossed the paper in a dumpster and left the downtown area, not wanting to give anyone a chance to look too closely at his face. The intelligence of the average citizen may not be on par with his own, but it didn't take a genius to figure out he and Darkwing Duck shared the same profile. Only a handful of unrelated avians bore a resemblance to his distinctive beak and jaw.

Pausing in front of an electronics store, he watched a news broadcast covering the place where the body had been found. They were interviewing the store manager, who had little add, but took advantage of the coverage to play for sympathy. The preliminary police report placed Glomgold's time of death at 3:11 am Saturday morning.

With a chill, Darkwing recalled his own whereabouts that night. He'd been there, investigating the robbery at McDuck's Della's Diamonds store. He remembered now, the rasping cough uttered by the robber he'd gassed and kicked, and Gizmoduck's concern.

Drake staggered and leaned against a building, suddenly crushed by guilt. _What...what if I really did kill someone...?_ He gulped at the thought. _I'd be no different from the criminals I arrest! I've crossed the line. There's no going back now... But wait...That's impossible. I couldn't have killed anyone... The guy from the robbery was fine when he led Giz and me on that wild goose chase around town. He'd certainly been fast on his feet. But, what if he'd been nursing broken ribs and a bone had punctured his lung? That would have dropped him, and in the middle of the night, nobody would have been there to help him..._

Trembling, Drake tore himself away from the building. He wanted to run to the police and turn himself in, just to alleviate some of the guilt and worry. But a part of him resisted the idea. He still wanted to believe in his innocence. He didn't have any proof that he was responsible, and even if he was, it had been an accident. How was he to know who was behind that ski mask? If he was locked up, he wouldn't be able to find the facts on his own.

He couldn't make any rash decisions now. He could hardly think straight. He needed to get away! Find a safe place to gather his thoughts and wits.

Darkwing Duck' and Drake Mallard's usual haunts were out of question of course. Even criminals would turn him in for the bounty on his head! And S.H.U.S.H. knew the location of his hideout as well, though why Hooter had sent Gizmoduck instead of sending his agents there in the first place was a question for another time. And it irked him. Enlisting Gizmoduck! Of all the insults they could heap on Darkwing's ego, that took the cake!

The only place Drake could think of that Gizmoduck and S.H.U.S.H. probably wouldn't check right away was Morgana's. Launchpad and Gosalyn would know to look for him there, and Morgana could shelter him. She might even be able to help prove his innocence, or at least get some of the facts that had not been publicly released.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he blundered into a mugging. Literally. He ran smack into the mugger, disrupting him in the middle of pounding a pig in a bedraggled suit and giving the pig a chance to run away. Drake straightened his beak and found himself staring up at a growling dog.

"Uh, heh heh. Sorry about that little slip-up. I'll just be on my way…"

Drake stood and looked around. His jaw dropped. A dozen young men varying from troubled teens to small-time thugs he'd personally put away a couple times glared back at him, rolling up their sleeves and pumping their palms with their fists.

"Hey Scraps! How 'bout we have some fun wit' dis guy?" a rat said to the terrier facing off with Drake.

"Yeah," said a duck with a scarred bill and a bandanna over one eye.

The dog, Scraps, just growled, ignoring his companions.  
>"You just made the biggest mistake of your feathery life, Bud," he said. He dressed in a studded leather jacket, jeans, and a spiked collar with a beret on his head. From the size and condition of his scarred fists, Drake could tell this scraggly terrier enjoyed pounding people personally.<p>

"How much ya got on ya there, Pops?" The scar billed duck smirked, holding out a palm while drawing a knife with his free hand.

Drake's temper got the best of him. He sprang up and latched onto Scarbill's flannel shirt, looking him straight in the eye.  
>""Pops?" I'll have you know, I've tackled criminals twice your size using only my pinkie finger! Ever seen your "Pop" do this?"<p>

Grabbing Scarbill's bandanna, revealing a perfectly normal eye behind it, Drake wrapped the duck's beak with it. Springing back to the sidewalk, Drake yanked hard on his end of the bandanna, sending the duck spinning into the rat. Both slammed into a dumpster and fell dizzily to the sidewalk.

"Not bad," Scraps admitted. "But let's see you do your fancy tricks with this!"

Scraps threw a blue pocketknife at Drake. Drake dodged and it bounced off the brick siding, its blade chipped and hilt cracked. Scraps scooped it up with tears in his eyes.

"Awww. I can't believe I did that! My Pappy's eagle..." the terrier stroked the hilt lovingly.

Drake could hardly believe what he was seeing and hearing. Calling a knife an eagle? "Pappy" must mean the dog's grandfather. Must be a family heirloom... Uh oh...

Scraps glared at him. "Look what you made me do! You'd better hope ya got enough on ya to cover the expense of fixing it!"

"Uh, heh heh..." Drake turned his vest pockets inside out. "I'm afraid that's a negative..."

Scraps lunged. Drake dodged and jumped up on the back of his neck. The terrier wasn't much taller than he was, but he was heavily muscled. The dog groped for him. Drake covered his eyes with the beret. Scraps grabbed the hat in his teeth and yanked it out Drake's grasp. Squaring his shoulders, Scraps ran full-speed toward the brick apartment complex, intending on ramming Drake.

Drake twisted his feet up in the air and pushed off the wall, flipping unharmed to the sidewalk, while Scraps hit the brick. Scraps rubbed his head. Drake surveyed the scene and saw the gang members fading into the alleys. Apparently, they weren't too keen on helping their leader. Drake straightened his vest proudly.

"Yet another triumph for the monument of might and mystery..." Drake broke off as he noticed Scraps giving him a strange look.

"Ya know, you remind me of someone..." the terrier squinted at him.

This proclamation broke through Drake's ego, reminding him that he was supposed to be blending in. His courage failed him at the moment and his knees shook. Scraps rose to his feet, but before he could move or say anything else, the reason for his gang's dispersal became clear as a patrolling police car pulled up to the curb. Scraps fled as two cops burst out of the vehicle with their guns drawn.

"Halt!" one cop ran after Scraps while the other turned to Drake.

"You don't look like a street thug... Did you assist a mugging in progress just moments ago?"

Drake straightened his shirt collar. "If by "assist" you mean break it up so the pig in the lawyer suit could get away, yes."

The goose scratched his head in a way that reminded Drake of Launchpad. "Hmmm. Well, good work. I guess..."

Seeing that his partner was going to need some backup, the cop pulled out his radio and turned toward the alley,

"Stay right there, Mister, we're going to have some questions for you..." the cop started speaking into his radio, but Drake was already making his escape.

The last thing he needed was to be questioned and possibly recognized by someone at the St. Canard Police Department. They would have to solve this case themselves. He had more important things on his mind.

* * *

><p>Later, at a creepy house downtown...<p>

"Dark! What a pleasant surprise," Morgana yawned as she blearily opened the door to her daytime visitor. Not even her house guardians got up before six pm.

Drake took in her loosely hanging hair and lack of makeup and dropped his gaze, shamefacedly. Holding his hands behind his back and twirling a toe on the wood deck, he quietly tried to explain.

"I'm sorry I didn't call first... Things have been...kind of crazier than usual. I'm so sorry to wake you, Honeybunch, but I...I don't know where else to go..."

Morgana stepped aside, letting him enter before cupping her hands around his cheeks and looking him seriously in the eye.

"You know I would do anything for you, Drake. Even if it is a little on the early side..." Patting his shoulder, she gestured to her living room. "Why don't you take a seat..."  
>A divan scuttled across the floor to bump into the back of Drake's knees, making him fall on it.<br>"... And enjoy some refreshments while I tidy up a bit," she added.

She magically zapped her hair into its characteristic coiffure while a cart laid out with an innocuous-looking tea set settled in front of Drake. Morgana left before Drake could vocalize his objections. He glanced nervously back at the kettle and hesitantly reached for it. He squeaked when it rose unassisted and poured a steaming brown beverage into a cup.

Fortunately, the cup remained inanimate and Drake finally worked up the nerve to touch it. Nothing happened other than a tiny bit of tea sloshing onto his finger. Yelping from the heat, he stuck his finger in his mouth and brightened. Not a bad flavor...

By the time Morgana rejoined him, Drake was on his third cup and had even sampled a cookie. Morgana beamed, glad that her darling duck had finally trusted her cuisine enough to try it. She settled beside him and waited for him to speak.

He was more than a little hesitant; telling someone he cared for deeply that he was wanted for murder was worse than being pursued by a friend.

Taking a slow breath, feeling the warmth from the tea fill his frame, Drake looked Morgana in the eye.  
>"Morg...I don't know how to tell you this... I don't suppose you've been keeping tabs on the news, have you?"<p>

She stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully before replying.  
>"You know I don't have cable. And newspapers never last more than a minute around the gargoyles... I'm afraid the radio frequencies I intercept are the only sources of normal news I get... Is that a problem, Dark?"<p>

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or even more nervous.  
>"Well, no... It's just that I've been rather busy lately. Gizmoduck is in town...and he's trying to arrest me."<p>

"Arrest you? For what?"

"Murder..."

Drake recounted everything he'd done and come across at the Della's Diamonds store break in, including his treatment of the crook. He then shared what he'd read from the papers and gave his theory about the jewelry heist being a cover for something that involved both the second richest duck in the world and Public Enemy Number One, Negaduck. He admitted that he needed help putting his theory to test and wasn't sure how to go about securing evidence when he had the cops, Gizmoduck, and S.H.U.S.H. breathing down his neck.

Morgana kissed his forehead. "I promised I would help you, Dark, and I will. The first question that comes to mind is whether or not that really was Glomgold at the break in. And, no offense to you, Honeywumpus, I can't imagine your kicks having enough force to kill someone. Even aimed at the throat, it should have merely choked him and knocked him out. And your smoke is only dangerous to asthmatics. I think we need to take a close look at the autopsy results and the police report. Eek! Squeak!"

The plump black bats dutifully left their perch on a curtain rod and circled Morgana's hair, awaiting orders. A big brown spider dangled down from the ceiling. Morgana cupped the spider fondly in her palm and deftly delivered orders to all three creatures.

"You two take Archie to the police station and search the medical examiner's lab. Bring back anything you find on Flintheart Glomgold. Archie, look up the police files on a computer and find what you can on a break-in at Della's Diamonds on Friday night going on to Saturday morning. Print out a copy or bring the original files. Bring whatever you can. Here is a satchel to carry everything in. Hurry, my pets."

The three saluted and Archie hopped into the satchel. The bats grabbed the carrying strap and grunted. Morgana took pity on them and gave Archie a shrinking powder to use on any evidence they gathered. She then assured Drake that she would restore everything to its rightful size when it was safely in her clutches.

Meanwhile, she tried to convince Drake to get some rest. Of course, he refused, but Morgana was prepared for his stubbornness. She snapped her fingers and the fireplace lit. The divan scooted closer to the warmth and a second tea set settled next to the original.

Feinting drowsiness, Morgana yawned and snuggled against Drake's shoulder, pulling a blanket around them. He looked worriedly around the room, trying to come up with an excuse that would provide him an escape route. However, within minutes, he was overcome with warmth and contentment and couldn't fight his eyelids any longer.

Morgana smiled and snuggled closer when she felt his tension fade. His head lolled on top of hers and she gently eased him onto his side, laying his head on a pillow. He started snoring loudly and she grimaced. That was one thing she hadn't counted on. She put a silencing spell on him without disrupting his sleep. There. Now maybe she could catch up on a nap before her pets returned and Drake's friends tracked him down.

_(Author's note: Thanks, Irual, for inspiring this scene. Even heroes need to rest sometime.)_

The animals returned a few hours later, but Morgana chose not to wake Drake. She instead shooed her pets to another room, with treats to reward them for their help and cooperation, and looked over the evidence they had brought. She had finished reading the files and was just about to retire to her room when she heard Drake stirring.

She checked on him and saw dark circles under his eyes. She wasn't proud of what she did next, but she deemed it necessary. Her Dark couldn't function on so little sleep... She tricked him into thinking it had only been twenty minutes since he'd dozed off and that she was still waiting for the animals to return. Drake protested that he was ready to get up, but Morgana wouldn't hear it. She blew a small puff of sleep sand on him.

"I'm sorry Dark," she whispered, before reopening the door to Dreamworld and joining Drake's dreams, keeping an eye on him and protecting him from Noddoff.

When she herself was too tired to entertain either duck or goblin any further, she paid Noddoff to leave Darkwing alone and went back to her world, sealing the door behind her. She slept for a while on the chair across from Drake, catching up on the hours she'd lost earlier.

Drake woke the next day refreshed and eager to get started. He saw Morgana was still asleep and tried to tiptoe around her, but somehow she sensed him. She greeted him with a smile and a kiss. He returned the affection, but kept his head clear by asking if her pets had returned yet.

Morgana feigned ignorance and made an excuse about checking on their progress. She let the bats and spider out of her bedroom and led them to the den, acting like she had been worried about them. Stroking Archie with one hand, Morgana took the objects out of the silk pouch, using the powder to returned them to their normal size and handing them to Drake.

"Thankyou, Archie. Here are the files, Dark," Morgana said.

Drake studied the reports carefully. "Says here the body was found outside the store... Same height and weight. Still no guarantee that it's Glomgold..."

Drake froze suddenly and stared at something closely. He fumbled for his pockets, seeking something he would ordinarily carry as he pointed out what he had noticed to Morgana. "Hold the phone! This evidence was altered!"

Guessing that Drake was looking for a magnifying glass, Morgana conjured one for him to use. He took it without comment, too focused to think about manners at the moment. He made a triumphant sound.  
>"Yes! That's it!"<p>

Morgana peered over his shoulder (easy enough, considering she towered over him) and studied the photo. It was a closeup of a bearded duck's face. Drake pointed.

"See here? The side burns look like they used to be brown, not gray! I never met Glomgold personally, but I've seen him on TV and in the papers enough to know what he looks like!"

"That's great news, Dark!" Morgana beamed.

"Not really... Somebody is in the morgue." Drake's face was grim as he explained his viewpoint. "I may not know who, but I am responsible for him, whether I killed him or not. It's up to me to find out what happened to this John Doe and the real Flintheart Glomgold. And why the police are covering this up! There's no way a Medical Examiner could mistake cheap makeup effects for the real thing! "

"I may not be able to help you with this stranger," Morgana said, "but I can track down Glomgold for you. All I need is piece of cloth or a brush that's been in contact with him to identify his aura."

Archie mumbled something and produced a sprig of hair Eek had gotten from the lab.

"Oh, wonderful, Archie! Thank you my dears. Whatever would I do without all of you? Just give me a minute, Dark, and I'll have answers for some of your questions."

Closing her eyes, Morgana held the hair and focussed. After several long minutes, she had the name of the duck, and the fact that old Bill Harrington had been dead from a stroke long before the police found him in front of the jewelry store wearing a ski mask. Unfortunately, Harrington didn't know why he had been used to frame Darkwing, nor did he care. Morgana wasn't about to give up, though. She told Darkwing she was going to teleport to Glomgold's house and get a feel for his aura so she could track him down.

Within minutes, she was gone and Drake was left alone in her creepy house. He looked at his watch and was surprised to see he had slept through the night. He decided, rather than sit there twiddling his thumbs and eyeing her furniture, he was going to do some investigating on his own.

* * *

><p><em>(Note: this next scene was inspired by Irual's stories, where Morgana's house has sentient gargoyles capable of interaction.)<em>

Not long after Drake left, Gosalyn and Launchpad stepped up on Morgana's porch. Gosalyn banged on the door and the gargoyle face threatened to bite. Launchpad backed away, nearly stepping into the pit fall on the porch. Gosalyn shoved him out of harm's way and pointed back at the glowering door knocker.

"You'll have to knock, Launchpad. I can't reach," she said.

Launchpad grimaced.  
>"Uh, that thing likes the taste of me. Can't we just go around?" he adjusted his scarf nervously as he eyed the gargoyle face.<p>

More house guardians flew from the roof down the walkway. Gosalyn put her hands on her hips and confronted her friend.

"Launchpad, if the front door is this protected, don't you think the back one would be too? Besides, Morgana will know we're here and let us in. We just might have to wait a minute..."

A gargoyle flew over Launchpad's head, dangerously close to his cap. He ducked and gulped, "Yeah. That's what I'm afraid of!"

The door knocker bared its teeth and growled, "The Mistress is not available."

"Okay, then tell Drake or Darkwing to let us in," Gosalyn replied levelly.

"He is no longer here."

"What! Where is he? Which way did he go?"

"That is not my concern."

Gosalyn jumped up and grabbed the sides of the gargoyle's face. "Well you better make it your concern! If something happens to my dad...!"

Startled by the duckling's vehemence, and the rock she raised threateningly in her fist, the gargoyle replied,"He is on foot, headed north. You can still catch up to him."

"That's better!" Gosalyn spat, bouncing back to the porch. "Come on, Launchpad! Let's go find him before somebody else does... Whoa!"

Gosalyn stopped in her tracks as she saw what was upsetting the guardians. Gizmoduck was on the path, easily batting the flying stone creatures away with his gizmos while approaching the house.

"Hey there, little Gizmobuddy. Shouldn't you be in school?" Gizmo called to Gosalyn.

She rolled her eyes. "Teacher work day."

"A likely story, but I'll bite... Kindly step away from the door, please..."

"Why?" Gosalyn asked.

Gizmoduck looked like he was going to explain, but he bit back the words and instead replied seriously, "If you respect Darkwing's wishes, you will go straight home and pretend you know nothing."

"What do we know?" Launchpad scratched his head.

"What are you talking about and what are you doing here? Answer that first!" Gosalyn demanded, glaring at Gizmo.

"I followed you," he replied. "I'm looking for Darkwing and if you don't already know why, then it is not my duty to explain. I promised him I wouldn't involve you, so please, Gizmobuddies, go home."

"Involve us in what? Gizmo, what is going on?" Gosalyn started counting on her fingers. "First the police shoot at the Thunderquack like we're terrorists or something, then Darkwing gets chased by S.H.U.S.H. He disappears without a note or phone call, then you show up looking for him! This doesn't have anything to do with some dead guy, does it?" Gosalyn got up in Gizmo's face.

"No!" he exclaimed.

Seeing her eyes narrow and her fist drawing close to his beak, Gizmo gulped, losing his nerve. He never had been very good with lies.

"Not exactly... Look, I was enlisted to arrest Darkwing and I used you to get to him. I'm not proud of the fact, but I promised I would protect you, so I won't bring you in for aiding or abetting."

"You think Darkwing is guilty? This has "set up" written all over it! I'm not going to let you near him, so unless you start acting like a hero and look into this mess, you're going to have to arrest me too!"

"Gosalyn!" Launchpad exclaimed. She glared at him.

"And you should be backing me up! I'm not about to sit by and let my dad go to jail for something he didn't do!"

Launchpad gawked and Gosalyn hesitated as she realized what she'd said.

"Uh, I mean my dad's hero. That's it. Darkwing is my dad's hero and mine too, so we're going to protect him no matter what!"

Gizmoduck sighed and shook his head. "I already know who he is..."

"Who?" Launchpad asked.

"Darkwing's identity. I found out after the party. Don't worry, I won't tell," Gizmo waved his gloves placatingly.

"But if you knew, why didn't you try to stop him...at...home..." Gosalyn suddenly understood. "You went there already! That's why he left..."

"I spoke to him. He drew the line and told me where he stood. He believes he's innocent, so I'm willing to help him however much I can. But right now he's got S.H.U.S.H. after him along with the entire justice department. If I don't get to him first, something bad may happen! The police have orders to shoot!"

Gosalyn paled and sank to the ground. Launchpad picked her up and hugged her.

"There, there, Gos. DW's smart. Nothing like that's gonna happen to him."

"I'll make sure it doesn't." Gizmo held a finger up. "One way or another, I'm going to get to the bottom of this and help Darkwing or my name isn't Gizmoduck!"

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Okay, just a reminder, this story is about Darkwing and Gizmoduck, so this is Launchpad' and Gosalyn's last major appearance in this story. I couldn't cut them out entirely because they are essential to Darkwing's character and they would understandably worry about him. Also I wanted to give Gizmo a chance to choose which side he'll stand on. The next chapter adds a few more pieces to the puzzle before the action really gets started. <em>

_Also, on a fun note, Fenton' and Drake's standoff was the idea that inspired this whole story. _


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: This should be the last of the slow chapters. Prepare to enter the Negaverse..._

* * *

><p>Pausing a few blocks away, Drake leaned against the side of a bank to catch his breath. He had been walking along, minding his own business, when someone pointed in his direction and shouted "There he is!" Drake had paused to see what was going on and was startled to see the police officers he'd escaped earlier coming toward him. He didn't know what exactly they wanted, but he still didn't want to talk to them. Nor did he think going to the station with them was the best way to dig for more details on his case.<p>

He pretended to not have noticed the police and went on his merry way, albeit at a faster pace. Hearing them call for him to stop and give pursuit, he gave up the casual approach and fled. Fortunately, he was well acquainted with the alleys and sideways here, as he often patrolled this section of town. He cut a sharp corner and vaulted up a fire escape, leaping to the next building. He then backtracked the way he'd come, going down to street level after a block and quickly ducking behind a dumpster.

He was pretty certain he was safe, and was confident his clever choice of direction had thrown the cops off his trail. He was congratulating himself silently when a huge shadow fell over him. He didn't need to look up to recognize the owner of the shadow.

"What are you doing here…?" he said irritably.

"If this is how you treat all your friends, it's no wonder you mainly work nights," Gizmoduck held his hands on his hips.

"That's because I like my privacy. How did you find me?" Drake asked.

"It wasn't that hard. I monitor the police channels, so when I heard of a mugging broken up by a citizen who fled the scene, I figured it was probably you. It was the right time frame, anyways. Then I heard that the police had spotted the same citizen just a few minutes ago, so I rushed over here. And here you are!"

"Yeah. For how long?" Drake glared up at his rival bitterly.

Giz was clearly puzzled by Drake's word choice. Drake simmered.

"Don't play dumb with me, Giz! I know you haven't forgotten the arrest warrant!"

"Why would I arrest you?" Gizmo shrugged. "You're just a regular law-abiding citizen who did something heroic yesterday. Far as I'm concerned, you should be commended."

Drake crossed his arms and placed a little distance between them, prepared to make a hasty retreat if need be.

"So, as long as I'm in these clothes, I'm safe, huh? Fair enough. What are you still doing here? What do you want?"

"Why, the same thing as you, Silly! I smell something fishy about this case and I'm going to investigate! What better way than alongside a world famous detective?" Gizmo smiled appealingly.

""World famous?" Really?" Drake asked eagerly.

Gizmo frowned as he tried to come up with something to say that didn't hurt Drake's ego.

"Well, of course I hardly ever leave Duckburg, so I'm not sure about "world famous." "Infamous" is more likely…" Seeing Drake scowl, he changed the subject. "So what's our first lead?"

Drake kept his cool. "First, we need to get to Glomgold's mansion. There may be a clue on his schedule to tell us why he was in St. Canard and who he was here to see. Once we find out what he's involved in, we might find out what the heck is going on! There are two questions begging to be answered: who set me up and why steal the Nope diamond and leave all the other valuables at McDuck Museum? It doesn't make sense!"

Mention of the diamond reminded Gizmoduck of the way Scrooge had studied the Canard diamond in the other museum.

"Uh, I think we need to check on the Canard diamond, too. The glass facsimile I found of the Nope diamond is probably not the only phony laying around."

Drake didn't question him.  
>"Alright, I'll have Launchpad check on it. He can call McDuck and arrange for an authority to take a look at it besides our...ahem, "friendly" curator."<p>

Gizmo waved his hand dismissively. "No need for that, Drake. You just wait here, and I'll check on it. I'll be back in a jiffy..."

"Wait! You can't go as Gizmoduck. It'll draw too much attention. And I'm not about to sit here on a roof all evening, keeping the pigeons company."

"Fine, then I'll go as my alter ego, and you can wait for me outside."

Drake bristled, but reluctantly agreed. He knew there was a pay phone at the museum with which he could call and leave a message for Launchpad and Gosalyn. They needed to know he was safe and had a trustworthy partner.

* * *

><p>A few minutes later, Fenton was back in the museum, studying the Canard Diamond display. It had been moved into a larger curio cabinet, next to a sampling of other brilliant, uniquely cut gemstones. It reflected the light around it and Fenton moved closer to the glass. The cut of the stone reminded him of his rubber duck bath toy in its shape, and he was temporarily lost in his memories. Then he realized the diamond was not nearly as bright as it should be. No wonder it had caught Scrooge's eye.<p>

He pressed his hands and beak against the glass, studying the gem from every angle.

"Sir? I'll have to ask you to step away from the displays," a security guard called from across the room.

Fenton gestured him over.  
>"Boy, am I glad you're here. I hope I'm just imagining this, but I think you should have a look at the Canard Diamond..."<p>

The guard stiffened. "Sir, I'll ask again. Please, step away from the display."

"It's alright. I'm in Mr. McDuck's employ. I won't be any trouble. Just tell me if you see what I see..." Fenton raised his hands and stepped away cooperatively.

The guard stepped closer and glanced at the display.  
>"What about it?"<p>

"Does it look "glassy" to you? Kind of...dull?"

The guard looked again, and did a double take, squinting and pressing against the display case same as Fenton had done. He pulled out his walkie talkie and asked for the curator to inspect the diamond, against Fenton's protests that he could have one of Mr. McDuck's jewel cutters from downtown stop by. The curator arrived a few minutes later.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

Fenton pointed to the stone. "You tell me."

The duck leaned forward to examine the display and straightened with a haughty sniff.

"Everything looks to be in order. Aside from some smudges on the glass..." he gave Fenton a withering glance.

"I think I'd like a second opinion. If you can't see what the two of us see, you need your eyes checked," Fenton replied curtly. The curator glared daggers, but the guard saw the sense in the request.

"I'll radio Harry. He does the cleaning. Maybe he forgot to dust it or something."

The curator began to visibly sweat.  
>"Well, perhaps I wasn't wearing my gloves when I returned it..."<p>

"That's right! You were the last person to handle it!" Fenton exclaimed.

The curator looked ill.  
>"Yes, I'm sure that's the problem. I smudged it with the oil from my hands and didn't notice. Thank you for pointing it out. Good day, Sir." The curator backpedaled, but the guard was starting to get suspicious.<p>

"Hold on there, Buddy. I think there's something else that you're not telling us..." the guard stepped toward the curator. Instead of growing indignant, the curator gulped audibly and sweated all the harder. He was either very ill, or he was suffering from a guilty conscience.

Fenton smirked. "You know, I heard the Nope Diamond in Duckburg was replaced with a phony. I wonder what are the odds that this one is a fake too..." Fenton kept his face schooled, but inside he was doing cartwheels. He was sounding like a real detective! Ma'Ma would be so proud... That is, if she wasn't watching TV...

The hint was all the guard needed. He radioed for backup and asked the curator to go to security with him while he arranged for someone to look at the display. The curator panicked and fled, but ran straight into another security guard who had overheard everything. The curator was arrested and Fenton was thanked for his keen observation. Fenton was tickled pink. Too bad Mr. McDuck wasn't here for this...

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, outside at a phone booth, Drake was waiting for Launchpad to answer his cell (a very simple phone with only basic features). His sidekick picked up on the second ring.<p>

"Hey DW!" Launchpad exclaimed the moment he heard Drake's voice. "Where are ya, buddy?"

There was a crackling static noise, a yelp from Launchpad, some rustling and heavy breathing, and then Gosalyn's voice rose.

"Dad! We've been looking all over for you! Please tell me you're safe."

Drake smiled at the demanding tone in her voice.  
>"I am, Sweetie. Don't worry. A friend is helping me follow some leads..."<p>

"A friend? Who..." Gosalyn's tone changed to bated excitement. "You mean he's not...uh, questioning you?"

Drake beamed with pride. Gosalyn had been quick to figure out not only who the "friend" was, but that Drake was purposefully being cryptic. If he could have, he would have hugged her right through the phone.

"That's right, Honey. We're doing some sightseeing, so I don't know when we'll be home..."

"What about Mor...Miss Morgan? Is she helping you too?"

"That she is. Don't worry, Dear. Between the three of us, we'll have everything back in order in no time. Be a good girl and go to bed on time. You have school tomorrow. I'm sorry I can't be there to tuck you in, but I'll be thinking about you..."

"I love you, Dad. Please be careful..." Gosalyn's voice grew rough from choked-back emotion, and Drake's heart wrenched. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and kept his voice calm and warm.

"I love you too, Kiddo. I miss you. Before you hang up, put Launchpad back on."

"Okay. Just...Go kick some tail, Dad!" Gosalyn sounded more like herself and Drake had to chuckle.

"Hey, what's up, Bossman?" Launchpad asked after some more rustling. Drake grimaced when he heard a horn honking. Lauchpad was a good driver when he was focussed, but he was not so good at multitasking.

"I'll let you get back to driving in a moment," Drake said. "Make sure Gos brushes her teeth and gets to bed on time. No monster movie marathons. And make sure she goes to school tomorrow. Tell her I'll be home soon. I've got a few leads to follow that might crack this case wide open, but I'll be gone a little while longer."

"No problemo, DW! So, where do you want me to pick you up?"

"Sorry, Pal. I need you to look after Gos this time around. I have transportation worked out for now."

"Oh..." Launchpad's voice was heavy with disappointment.

"Once everything calms down, we'll get right back to our regular routine. Whaddya say, Partner?" Drake made his tone as upbeat as he could.

"Okie dokie, Partner!" Launchpad brightened.

Drake said goodbye and hung up just as Fenton walked outside. He hurried to join him and heard his news. Knowing that both diamonds were missing was further confirmation to Drake that Negaduck was involved, and that he was paying off people to relay false information. No doubt, the SCPD Medical Examiner would prove to be either a fake or well-paid.

"It's making sense, in an odd sort of way..." Drake commented as he and Fenton walked along the sidewalk. "I'm beginning to suspect that wherever this Glomgold guy is, Negaduck won't be too far from the scene…"

"Why do you think that? What has Negaduck to do with Glomgold?" Fenton asked as they walked back up to the roof where he'd left the Gizmosuit (in its briefcase) tucked behind the grill on the air conditioner.

"Because diamonds and billionaires are Negaduck's expertise," Drake continued. "If anyone has reason and resources to set me up, it's him. And Negaduck showed up precisely at the moment I was going to bag a burglar Thursday night. That means he knew what was going on and wanted to make sure I was too focused on him to notice the burglar get away!" Drake paced the roof with mounting excitement."Now that I think of it, the bad guy I busted Thursday night was approximately the same height, weight, and build as the guy from Della's Diamonds... It's too much of a coincidence to ignore!"

Fenton, having whispered the code words directly to the briefcase, was now back in hero form.

"But Darkwing, half of the avian residents of St. Canard and Duckburg are about the same size. How does that narrow the field?"

"It doesn't, when you look at it that way..." Drake glowered at him. "But when your senses are as sharply trained as mine, you pick up on little details others might miss, such as gait, rapidity of breath, smell, and shape of beak. While many ducks have similar bills, I can almost guarantee a match to the Della's Diamonds thief, which means either the crook was jewelry shopping, or he was working for someone..."

"Well, that does match the video surveillance..." Gizmo rubbed his chin.

Drake's eyes glittered with interest.  
>"You've seen it? What was on it?"<p>

"Well, you and me, of course, plus the thief... Hey, I'll bet I can access the server!"

Drake paced anxiously, wringing his fingers together as Gizmo fidgeted with his computer console, punching buttons and typing on a pop-up keyboard. Finally he made a triumphant sound and Drake flew over to watch. After having Gizmo play back both clips showing the thief in distress, Drake punched his fist.

"That's it! I know what happened! Negaduck staged everything! Why else would the thief come back twice to the scene of the crime? It makes perfect sense!"

"What?" Gizmo asked, moving his hands up in an frustrated gesture.

Drake gave him a half smile. "The "thief," whom we have yet to identify, was waiting for me to show up. His job was to take enough punches to cause reasonable doubt of my methods in front of witnesses. After losing us, he went back to the store so Negaduck could stage the final act, swapping the real thief with the body when they were off camera."

"A switch?" Gizmo asked in confusion.

"Think!" Drake tapped his head patronizingly. "There's a body in the morgue, and it's not the old guy from the robberies or Glomgold. There's been a coverup at the police station and only somebody with money and influence could have arranged it. Since I doubt anyone at the SCPD would willingly or knowingly work for Negaduck, that leaves Glomgold as the likely culprit. Who knows what strings a zillionaire can pull? In addition, we know, thanks to Morgana, that the body is just some old geezer who had a heart attack and conveniently matched Glomgold's physical attributes. As for the crook I almost caught, I'm not sure if it was Glomgold himself or some hired thug who favored fisticuffs as a means of defense."

"So that means, once we find Glomgold and Negaduck, we'll have the means to clear your name!" Gizmo perked up.

Drake smirked. "Exactly."

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Drake, dressed as a gardener, carefully scouted the grounds of Glomgold's mansion. Gizmoduck watched Drake with a periscope, waiting for his signal. He had given Drake a Bluetooth headset to keep in touch with.<p>

"Have you found anything yet?" Gizmo's voice blasted Drake's ear. Drake managed to swallow both his yelp and and protest before replying.

"No. Turn the mic down and keep quiet. Don't say anything unless you spot something. I'm going in..."

""In?" As is, breaking and entering?" Gizmo gulped.

"Yes! Now keep it down, Mr. Boyscout! I don't want to draw any attention..." Drake hissed.

Drake had finished perusing the perimeter, noting the location of every security camera and motion detector. His Bluetooth device was concealed by headphones connected to a portable MP3/radio player, and Drake hummed softly while jimmying the lock on the front door.

"Giz, I've got the door unlocked. Do you know how to disable an alarm system?" he asked, his hand still on the door handle.

"Yes, I believe I have a gadget that'll work. Does this mean you actually want my help?" Gizmo asked incredulously.

"Yes!" Drake snapped. "What else did you come along for?"

"Alright, I'm coming."

Gizmo joined him and disabled the security system within a handful of seconds. Gizmo then drove upstairs and positioned himself at a window where he could see the yard and street. Drake continued searching downstairs.

Glomgold's mansion was completely different from Scrooge's, inside and out. While not much smaller, it was spread over a smaller acreage and it had fewer windows, making it feel more oppressive. The walls were stone in some sections of the house, adding to the cold, primeval atmosphere. Animal trophies decorated the hallway leading to the study, and oil paintings of Glomgold's ancestors glowered down from their lofty perches.

The study was equipped with a monitoring system similar to Scrooge's security office, but with fewer controls and cameras. Drake considered looking through the security footage to figure out when Glomgold was last in the house (and see if he'd had any unsavory visitors recently) but Drake chose to keep his visit as short and noninvasive as possible.

Halfway through his investigation, Morgana teleported to his side. After recovering from the fright, Drake hugged her close.

"Morgana!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I tracked you. Now Dark, listen to me. I found Glomgold, but he is not in our world..."

Drake sweated nervously. "You mean he's dead?"

"No!" she shook her head in frustration. "I mean there's a gateway to an alternate universe nearby..."

Gizmo overheard Morgana on Drake's mic and asked Drake. "Alternate universe? What does she mean by that?"

"Shush!" Drake hissed to Giz. He started to apologize to Morgana and explain he was speaking to Gizmo, but she wasn't paying attention to him. She had her hands on her head and she started swaying from side to side.

"Morgana! Are you alright?" Drake steadied her.

"I can't stay much longer. The energy fluctuations siphon my magic from me. I'm getting weaker by the moment, but I had to warn you, Dark..." Morgana placed a hand on his shoulder. Drake looked at her gratefully, but a spark came to his eye as he considered what she'd already mentioned.

"An alternate universe...An inter-dimensional portal! That's it! That's how Negaduck got back! I left him in an inter-dimensional wormhole and now he's out for revenge!"

Morgana staggered to her knees. "I have to go. I'll come back for you after I've regained my strength..."

Drake waved his hand dismissively. "No need for that, Dear, I'm going after Glomgold. I'll bring him back and prove my innocence once and for all!" he puffed up his chest.

"Dark..." Morgana said weakly, her voice sounding far away. Her body turned transparent and disappeared.

Drake stared at the place she'd been standing. He was surprised by how lonely he suddenly felt.

"Morg..." he whispered sadly. As he tried to decide what course of action to take next, he realized his feathers were tingling. The prickling sensation spread all over and his clothes started sparkling. They changed from green gardener overalls to purple. Soon, the sparks and the prickling faded, leaving Drake in his Darkwing ensemble.

"How the...?" he ran his hands over the suit and heard paper crinkle in the left breast pocket. It was a note from Morgana.

_"Dear Dark, I'm sorry I could not do more. I hope it's enough. Take care and come back soon..._

_M.M._

_P.S. The portal is below you."_

"Below me?" Darkwing exclaimed. "Why on earth would Negaduck install an inter-dimensional gateway in Glomgold's basement?"

His ear buzzed and Darkwing adjusted the frequency. Gizmoduck's voice sounded distorted and worried, but it was still too loud for Darkwing's comfort.

"Drake, are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm here!" he snapped. "Where else would I be?"

"You're breaking... Losing...nal. I'm comin...down!"

Moments later, Darkwing heard Gizmo bumping down the stairs. Gizmo slid on the rug at the bottom of the stairs and plowed into Darkwing. Both heroes rolled across the foyer into a wall, Darkwing squashed between the heavy suit and the stonework.

"Oopsie..." Gizmoduck said. He gingerly helped a stunned-looking Darkwing peel himself off the wall and stand upright. "Are you okay, Gizmobuddy?"

"M nah fu gimobuddy..." Darkwing muttered incoherently as he fought to straighten his beak. Gizmo grabbed and yanked the bill back into shape.

"There." Gizmo said with a hint of pride. "Good as new. Now what were you saying...?"

Darkwing shook his head.  
>"I said I'm NOT your "Gizmobuddy!"" He shouted into Gizmo's face. Settling himself down, Darkwing brushed off his suit and chuckled in surprise. "However, accident aside, I think we're on to something..."<p>

Gizmoduck was clearly confused, but Darkwing gestured to the wall they had slid into. Cracks ran along some of the mortar between the stones, showing an outline of a door.

"Blathering blatherskite!" Gizmo exclaimed. "Talk about a lucky break! We'd have never found that otherwise..."

Darkwing gave him a withering glare, but chose not to comment. He dug his fingers into the gap and pulled back. After a moment of strained effort, the door opened on oiled hinges, revealing a carpeted staircase. Darkwing sighed.

"Ever get that funny feeling of Déjà vu?" he muttered to no one in particular.

Gizmoduck failed to catch the drift. The two crime fighters had not too long ago descended into a basement in pursuit of villains. Although everything had worked out in the end, things had not gone well at the time. At least this time, Gosalyn was not being held hostage by a crazed Quackerjack holding a gun (refers to "My Daughter, My Life").

Darkwing rolled his eyes at Gizmoduck and flipped on the light switch. There weren't any sounds of scrambling below to suggest a surprised resident, so Darkwing determined it was safe enough to proceed without much caution. Gizmoduck further complicated the matter by trying to descend the stairs on his tire. He grunted with each bump and Darkwing shook his head. _There's one advantage to going barefoot..., _he thought as he followed.

He found Gizmoduck at the bottom swaying dizzily and steadied him before looking around. What he saw confused him... It looked like an ordinary wine cellar, with shelves lined in bottles and a couple shipping crates overflowing with packaging material. Darkwing investigated these first, but found no sign of illegal substances or weapons... The air was dry and cool, as it was supposed to be. But when Darkwing started to suggest leaving, he noticed Gizmoduck had a strange look on his face. The superhero looked like he'd smelled something bad and he was checking his suit for something.

"What? Did you break something in your landing or short out a fuze...?" Darkwing asked.

"No, Wingy... It's my suit! Some of my more sensitive gizmos are offline, like the Geiger Counter and my sonar... And my compass is going crazy!" Gizmo said, looking both puzzled and slightly alarmed.

Darkwing rubbed his chin in thought. "You don't suppose...?"

He moved across the room to the aforementioned wall and pressed his head against it. He didn't hear anything, but, to his sensitized fingertips, the insulation felt warmer here than room temperature would indicate. He ran his fingers along the wall, seeking a point of entry. Straightening, he looked back at his companion.

"I believe the object we are seeking is past this wall. Now, if you will carefully use your laser to cut through the stone, we could..."

Darkwing cut off as Gizmoduck pressed a button on his arm. Instead of the laser beam Darkwing had requested, a small rocket appeared.

"Uh oh! Where's the abort button...?" Gizmo muttered, nervously patting down his suit.

The rocket fired and blasted a hole in the wall. Bits of wood, concrete, and stone flew out in all directions. Darkwing covered himself with his cape, coughing.

"What part of "careful" didn't you understand?" Darkwing sputtered. When he didn't get a reply, he cautiously peeked around the fabric. "Giz...?"

"Over here, Wingy..." Gizmo replied gruffly from across the room. He brushed off some debris and wheeled over to join Darkwing. "Sorry about that, Gizmobuddy... The button for my Quacker Blaster was next to the one I meant to push. In this confined space, it created quite a kick. Next time I'll be sure to press the red button."

"'Next time?" You idiotic overgrown..." Darkwing started to fume but again Gizmo cut him off by raising his hand.

"Hey, do you hear that?" Gizmo went into the tunnel his rocket had created. "A metallic chiming of some sort...? It's this way, come on!" Gizmo zoomed ahead.

Darkwing protested being left behind during HIS investigation, but there was no stopping the motorized hero once he set his mind to something and all Darkwing could do was jog after him. He'd only gone a few yards in when he realized not only was the air warmer, but there was a garish green light faintly illuminating the halls. He could also hear the distinct noise that Gizmo had tried to describe. It sounded like a cross between a scifi movie and a magic spell.

If Gosalyn were here, she'd probably say it was the result of some Frankenstein experiment on bringing zombies back to life or something else out of a horror movie. Darkwing fought back the feelings his thoughts had dredged up and focused. Although Gizmoduck eliminated the element of surprise with all the noise he was making, Darkwing suspected he knew what was at the end of the tunnel.

"The portal is below you," Morgana had written, and so it seemed she was right. That green light was similar to what Darkwing had seen coming out of the birthday cake before the Fearsome Four threw him into the Negaverse. And while he knew it was unlikely that there would be two portals leading to the same alternate universe, he guessed that if it was possible, Negaduck would have found a way... But what did any of this have to do with Glomgold?

Darkwing trotted to keep up with Gizmoduck. The armored hero had come to a halt and both saw the same thing. Centered in a wide, empty earthen chamber was a bathtub. It was covered in scratches and stained with age, but the green light was pouring from it.

Darkwing and Gizmoduck exchanged incredulous looks and Darkwing shrugged. The masked mallard recalled seeing a bathtub floating around in the time stream like an "Alice In Wonderland" scene, but he'd never have guessed that the odd object actually had any significance.

Darkwing peered over the rim. The light was coming from the drain. He felt a distinct electromagnetic charge in the air around the basin. It seemed to be drawing him into it, even though he saw no way to squeeze through such a tiny hole.

Gizmoduck cleared his throat. "Oh well... Nothing here. I think now would be an ideal time for a tactical retreat..." he said nervously.

Darkwing bristled. "Retreat? When we have the answer right under our noses? You can turn tail and run, but Darkwing Duck never backs down from a challenge..."

Without waiting for Gizmo's answer, Darkwing vaulted into the tub. The time stream sucked him in, the portal widening to accommodate him.

Gizmoduck followed him. Finding Darkwing floating several yards away, Gizmo tried to reach him.

"Don't worry, Darkwing! I'll save you!" Gizmo stretched out an arm gizmo to grab Darkwing's feet, but he just missed. "Nuts!" he muttered, before swerving around an armoire. A rocking horse bumped into him.

"What is this crazy place? I feel like I fell asleep in a carnival funhouse!" Gizmo complained as he pushed off of the armoire to catch up to Darkwing.

Darkwing glanced back at Gizmo with a half smile, relaxed and allowing the current to carry him. "Welcome to the time stream, Giz. This wormhole of light and oddities connects our world to at least one other. An alternate St. Canard that makes my city look like a resort..."

Gizmo would have questioned him further, but they were sucked into a vacuum that spewed them out through another portal, the light emitting from it red instead of green. They shot up through a crumbling roof and fell toward a dry brown lawn.

Darkwing, remembering his previous escapade, twisted and landed neatly on his feet. He smiled smugly and turned to brag to his companion, but Gizmoduck wasn't in sight. Darkwing lifted his hands to yell, but the front door squeaked open and a battered-looking Giz stood inside the ruined house.

"Clean-up in Hardware, Aisle Two..." Gizmoduck muttered dizzily, clutching his helmet with one hand while steadying himself against the doorframe.

Darkwing hid a laugh and managed to appear somewhat concerned for his fellow. He picked a tuft of cotton batting off Gizmo's arm, glancing back into the house to see that the source was an old couch with the stuffing hanging out of it. Darkwing started to comment that at least Giz had landed in a relatively soft place, but further observation proved that statement inaccurate. The heavy Gizmosuit had torn through the couch to the basement, and judging from the dings on the helmet, apparently hit something hard. The duck was lucky he hadn't broken his neck...

Darkwing focused on casually brushing the rest of the lint off the suit while inspecting the damage.

Gizmo gathered his senses and straightened.

"Where are we?" he asked, looking around. Darkwing followed his gaze.

The sky was a hazy red, thick with smog. They were in a suburban area that looked like it might have been family-friendly at one point in time, but was practically a wasteland. Not a living thing, plant or otherwise, was in sight. Darkwing sighed and answered Gizmo's question.

"One of the last places I ever wanted to see again..." he replied vaguely.

Gizmo looked at him quizzically but Darkwing stepped across the lawn determinedly. He checked the number on the mailbox and gawked in surprise. It was a number he remembered seeing recently. He glanced back at the house. It didn't look familiar...

Darkwing jogged down the street and found the street sign, bent in awkward angles but still legible. That's strange... He didn't remember a "Glomgold Lane" in St. Canard... Unless... Hold the phone! Darkwing remembered from his previous visit to the Negaverse that the locations had been exactly the same, including the portals. What if this suburb had been built on Glomgold's land? Could it be...?

"The mansion's gone!" Darkwing yelped, clapping a hand to his head.

Gizmo stopped sightseeing to join his companion.  
>"What was that, Wingy?"<p>

Darkwing explained his theory, and Gizmo reluctantly agreed with him.

There didn't seem to be much point in investigating the house. It was clearly little more than a shell to disguise the inter-dimensional portal. Whatever had become of this world's Glomgold, the duck obviously didn't live here anymore. So where would they find their Glomgold?

A short flight to the Nega St. Canard didn't reveal anything to the two heroes beyond the fact that, horizon to horizon, the Negaverse was clearly in chaos. Forests were stripped and leveled; streams polluted; mountains mined or decimated; and every building in a state of disrepair. It was like the whole world had stopped caring...

Darkwing got a chill thinking along those lines. He knew of at least six people who did care, and the lack of positive results didn't bode well for his friends, the Friendly Four, aka "Darkwing's Ducks." Or NegaGosalyn...

Gizmo felt his passenger shudder and tried to comfort Darkwing with the knowledge that they were almost back in St. Canard. Neither had anything to add to the statement.

They landed in the former diamond district, with the supposition that it would be a relatively safe place to start. It was close to the city center, Negaduck's stronghold, without being part of it, and it most likely was the first place hit by the devilish duck when he took over. The office buildings had broken windows, the shops were ruined, and it didn't look like anybody had come through here in several years. The accumulated grime was thick on the sidewalks, showing no foot prints aside from those of the two heroes.

On a whim, Darkwing ventured into what would have been the Della's Diamonds store and Jay Jewelers. He found something akin to Scrooge's trademark logo, but it had devil horns and hooves where the lines protruded through the curves of the "S" and it was flame red instead of gold. Gizmoduck gulped at the sight. Apparently NegaScrooge was a business man like his counterpart, but the similarities departed from there.

Darkwing waved his hand dismissively at the mural on the broken window and moved on. Unlike Gizmo, he had no reason to be concerned about NegaScrooge. He was focussed entirely on finding Glomgold and, eventually, Negaduck. He moved on.

They had just rounded the corner to the next district when Darkwing bumped into someone, knocking them both on their tails. Darkwing rubbed his beak irately while the other person lifted his navy beret from his eyes.

"Scraps?" Darkwing asked incredulously. He barely recognized the dog without his black jacket and collar. The hat was the only thing the Negaversion had in common with the canine. The shaggy blonde terrier stared at him in a mixture of terror and confusion.

"My apologies, Lord Negaduck, Sir!" the dog exclaimed in a higher pitch than he would have used in the other world. "I...I didn't see you... I mean I wasn't watching where I was walking..."

Gizmoduck casually helped the dog up.  
>"Have no fear, Citizen! For I am Gizmoduck, guardian of... oof!" Gizmo was cut off by a hard shove from Darkwing. Glaring at his companion, Darkwing put on a fairly good impression of Negaduck.<p>

"What he means, Scraps, is that...," Darkwing fumbled for a moment, losing the rough edge in his voice. "I am... in an unusually good mood today! Yeah, that's it. And I will forgive this unfortunate collision with my person if you will escort...duh I mean, entertain my companion and me in more...private quarters."

"But Sir, I...!" the terrier held up his hands desperately.

Taking his character to heart, Darkwing drew himself up on tiptoes and glowered into the dog's eyes.  
>"Are you refusing a direct order, Scruffy?"<p>

"NO! No, Lord Negaduck! I just...don't know where to..." Scraps broke off when he saw the menacing mallard grind his teeth. He gulped and staggered back a little. "M...Maybe I do know a place after all! It may not suit your tastes, Sir, but it's all I know of..."

Darkwing settled down and raised an eyebrow at Gizmo, daring him to say anything.  
>"I think you might be in for a surprise," he commented softly to the terrier.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

Later, as the afternoon sun struggled to shed its light on the tattered city below, Darkwing paced by an upper story window. Gizmoduck tried to make himself more comfortable by leaning against a wall. Scraps, or Tim, as Darkwing and Gizmo learned, sat on a mouldering couch in the center of the apartment, nervously wringing his hat.  
>Darkwing had grilled Tim about the Friendly Four, SHUSH, FOWL (which was more of a charity organization than a spy operation), and anything else he could think of. Understandably, the dog knew very little, but he was evasive in his answers about the good guys, especially the Friendly Four. This encouraged Darkwing, for it meant the team, and possibly Gosalyn and Tank, were in hiding somewhere safe.<br>Gizmo, of course, was quite confused by Tim's answers. SHUSH working for Negaduck; FOWL standing for Friends Opposing World Larceny; and most of all, the fact that their host was treating Darkwing like a villainous monarch. Darkwing held off Gizmo's questions until he was reasonably certain Tim would not turn them in.  
>"So, Timmy," Darkwing began guardedly. "You are a caseworker for Nega...I mean MY legal department?"<br>Tim flinched. "Actually, "junk mail" is how you termed it, Sir... I file complaints and requests from your labor department and catalog them so you can keep track of who you fire and who you gloat over..."  
>"Right, right," Darkwing waved his hand dismissively as he continued pacing. "And you do your job well?"<br>"You've only threatened me twice, Sir..." Tim trembled.  
>"Twice?" Darkwing paused and studied the terrier carefully. "Well, that's good news, isn't it? At least he didn't kill you outright..."<br>"Yeah..." Tim brushed his long bangs back. His dark blue eyes were momentarily filled with relief that he was still alive, but the relief turned to suspicion as he played back the mallard's words. "What do you mean, 'he'?"  
>Darkwing smirked and faced the shaggy terrier full on. "I think you know the answer to that, Scraps..."<br>"I told you, my name isn't..." Tim straightened and stared. He pointed at Darkwing. "You. You can't be Negaduck... You don't act anything like him. Or sound like him. Or dress like him..."  
>"Oh, and who else could I be?" Darkwing crossed his arms, putting on an air of indifference while preparing himself for whatever came next.<br>"You're...you're Him. Aren't you," Tim's hushed, reverent tone was all Darkwing needed to hear.  
>"Yes, Citizen, and I request that you keep this knowledge to yourself and tell me where I can find Megavolt and the others," Darkwing said triumphantly.<br>"Megavolt!" Gizmo exclaimed, straightening so quickly he nearly fell over.  
>Tim grinned from cheek to furry cheek and his triangular ears perked up. "Right'o! Boy, won't they be glad to see you again!"<br>Darkwing turned to stare out at the smoky cityscape again, his voice pensive. "I'm counting on it..."  
><hr>  
>Darkwing and crew ended up in the bad part of town. Which, in the Negaverse, was the good part as it meant there was nothing left to plunder and no one to scare away. It was practically a ghost town. Garbage littered the streets and sidewalks. Graffiti and blood stains, some multilayered, covered the brick sidings. Broken glass twinkled under street lamps and jagged windows. A vile smell caught at their throats. What better place to hide fugitives? Certainly the last place you would expect to find sunny Bushroot and electricity-starved Megavolt. Which meant it was probably the first section of town that Negaduck checked.<br>As they walked, a shadow passed over them. Darkwing looked up suspiciously, seeking its source. Nothing. A few paces later, another swept by, leaving a buzzing noise in its wake. Darkwing spun to face it. Again, zilch. He was muttering about planes and over-sized birds when a third hovered over his head. "Oh no you don't. I'm not falling for that trick..." he grouched. His companions looked at him curiously.  
>"What trick?" Tim asked.<br>"The old 'prank and run away' trick teenagers with nothing better to do play on neighbors. Only this time, someone is going to get hurt if they don't stop bothering me!" Darkwing spun around irately and gasped. He was beak to beak with a giant mechanical face. "Eep! That is the ugliest smile I've ever seen!" he yelped.  
>"Run!" Tim yelped, shoving Darkwing and Gizmo toward a broken door.<br>"I'll take care of these miscreants!" Gizmo exclaimed, but Tim had a firm grip on his arm.  
>"There's no time! Lord Negaduck is onto us!" Tim exclaimed.<br>Darkwing looked again and finally realized what he was seeing. Two duck-head shaped robots were blocking them from the building and the street. Two more robots were closing in on them.  
>"Robots!" Darkwing exclaimed. Leaping sideways he barely avoided the oncoming talons of one diving monstrosity. Gizmoduck was already in the clutches of two of the flying computers, but fortunately the suit was too heavy for two to lift. Gizmo combatted his attackers with a racquet and his onboard water hose.<br>Darkwing dodged another swipe from his robotic foe. The robots were horribly strange yet familiar. Their beaks were filled with jagged teeth and painted red. The hoods were black and the wings were yellow. Darkwing had no way of knowing it, but the robots were the same design as the ones Dark Warrior Duck used in his world. What Darkwing did recognize was the pattern the robots used for capturing targets. It was the same as the D 2000 supercomputer he had gotten from his S.H.U.S.H. a couple years ago. Meeting up with a Negaversion of "Dee Dee" didn't reassure him any. As he dodged and fired a gas canister at yet another mechanical monstrosity, something squeezed around both of his biceps, lifting him off the pavement.  
>"The suspect Darkwing Duck has been apprehended. On route to NegaTower," the robot droned in a feminine voice devoid of emotion.<br>"Oh yeah, well try this on for size!" Darkwing fired a net out of his gas gun at the robot. The net wrapped around the massive beak.  
>"Subject hostile. Request backup," the robot said, squeezing his arms even tighter with its pincers.<br>"Hey! Cut that out! Ow! It's not like I can do anything else to you!" Darkwing yelled as he continued struggling.  
>"Request for backup confirmed," the robot droned. Another robot moved alongside, extending a pincer toward Darkwing's leg.<br>Darkwing kicked off of the oncoming robot and flipped so that he was facing the back end of his captor. He aimed his gas gun at a panel on the underbelly and fired a can of fire retardant on it. Moments later, the foaming liquid oozed under the sheet metal and contacted the wiring underneath. The robot suddenly released him and he free-fell several stories until his hastily aimed grappling hook caught the second robot. The sharp prongs impaled the screen that were positioned like eyes on the duck face and the second robot sparked.  
>Darkwing retracted the rope, climbed on top of the robot, and steered its fall toward a nearby roof top. With his cape wrapped around his hands, he pried the grappling hook off the robot and jumped, tumbling to a safe landing on the roof. The robot crashed into the steel siding of the tower next door. Brushing his hands together, Darkwing boastfully surveyed the carnage.<br>"Eh, eh, eh. Good ol' Dee Dee. Just as fallible as ever. Now to find Gizmoduck and get out of here!"  
>"Leaving? Without saying "hello" first? My, aren't we being hasty today..." The familiar voice spoke from behind and Darkwing whipped around to face it, only to find... Nothing. Unnerved, Darkwing looked around, his gas gun prepped. "Show yourself, Negaduck! Hiding from a fight just isn't your style!" he demanded waril<br>y. "Oh but I'm not hiding. I am everywhere." This last word was drawn out into a growl. Darkwing cast about, but there was still no sign of his nemesis.  
>"Oh puhlease. Not even you have enough resources to be everywhere at once," Darkwing rolled his eyes.<br>"So much for your imaginative potential," Negaduck taunted. "You're in my world now, Dipwing, and I have cameras installed on every street and building. You can't so much as sneeze in MY St. Canard without twenty cameras capturing you at it."  
>As Negaduck spoke, Darkwing located two pinpricks of reflected light nearby. He quickly identified it as a microscopic camera lens.<br>"Funny. I never pictured you as the type to sit at a desk all day watching candid camera. And since when did you start using robots?" Darkwing asked before fogging the lens with his breath and moved on, hoping to cut off Negaduck's view long enough to find a way down. He found a speaker connected to a satellite from which Negaduck's voice emitted.  
>"You gave me the idea, Dorkwing," the villain explained smugly. "You see, long story short, Megavolt described, in detail, the weaponry and computers a certain version of you that I wouldn't have dreamed of used to take over his St. Canard. Plus I heard that S.H.U.S.H. had given you a special toy that did a better job arresting thugs than you. One that sounded just like Dark Warrior's. And that got me thinking. If Dark Warrior can clean up a city with an army of metal, what could I get away with? All I had to do was find the schematics for the D 2000 supercomputer and give those to MY version of SHUSH. Thanks to both agencies, I not only have enough eyes and firepower to run the city, I rule the entire world! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"<br>Darkwing found a stairwell and took off, Negaduck's voice following him on a speaker inside.  
>"You can't hide from me, Darkwing Dirt! I can see you from miles away! And I've already taken care of your company! So if you don't want Gizmoduck to be reduced to a pile of scrap metal, I suggest you get back out there and surrender, while you still have a chance. Of course, I'm not adverse to blowing up the building you're in, either."<br>Darkwing lifted his cape to shield his face and dove through a broken window, using his grappling hook to land safely on the sidewalk. He spotted the robots just in time to dodge and flip out of their reach. He fired more fire retardant at them, but the robots activated windshield washer fluid and wipers. Within moments, all four were ready for action again. Negaduck's voice projected from multiple loudspeakers all around.  
>"I told you surrender was a limited time offer..." Negaduck sneered.<br>"I'll never surrender to you, Negaduck! Come out here and fight fair!" Darkwing challenged.  
>"Heh, heh, that's a good one! Heh heh. Me, fair? Better loosen your hatband, Dimbulb. You're losing some circulation up there. Never the less..." Negaduck stepped out of an automated tank parked in the middle of the street. "I wouldn't mind loosening it for you..."<br>Darkwing crouched in a defensive pose. "I have you right where I want you, Negaduck! Prepare to be vanquished! Heeyah!" He launched into a web kick.  
>Negaduck dodged and threw a kick and chop combo. Darkwing evaded this by ducking and drop kicking. Negaduck's leg met his own, blocking him. Darkwing and Negaduck exchanged hand chops, hooks, jabs, and kicks, each anticipating and blocking the other expertly. Not a single blow landed between the two of them.<p>The duel might have gone on for an hour this way if the robots hadn't moved in when Darkwing was off-balance from a failed roundhouse kick. Two sets of pincers seized him by the arms. Darkwing twisted one hand free and drew his gas gun, ready to take on the robots. However, by paying attention to the robots, Darkwing wasn't watching Negaduck. His foe took advantage of his lowered guard by web kicking him in the stomach. Darkwing groaned. Only the robot was keeping him from doubling over. The second robot grabbed his free arm and he lost his grip on his gas gun. Darkwing was thoroughly incapacitated for the moment.<br>"How's that for fair?" Negaduck chuckled at him. "Now for a little souvenir..." Grinning, Negaduck stepped up to Darkwing, lifted his hat, and plucked a feather from his head.  
>"Yow! What was that for!" Darkwing demanded.<br>"Patience, Old Friend," Negaduck said softly. "You'll find out before the night is over." To the robots he said, "Take him to the Tower. I have a surprise planned in honor of my... guest..." Picking up the gas gun, Negaduck handed it to yet another robot. "And take this with you," he growled to the machine.  
>"You'll never get away with this, you deceptive, demented, derailed, deranged, devilish duck!" Darkwing snapped as the robots lifted him up.<br>Negaduck yawned condescendingly. "Hmph. Like I haven't heard that a million times. Get over yourself, Deadbeat. You're on my turf now, and you don't have your little fan club to help you out."  
>Darkwing saw him a moment before Tim took action. He had no idea where the dog had come from, but before Negaduck could turn around, Tim cracked the villain over the head with a plumbing wrench. Negaduck's eyes spun dizzily and he slumped to the ground.<br>"Nice going, Tim!" Darkwing exclaimed exuberantly, but his elation was cut short. The robots holding him called for backup and headed toward NegaTower while three robots just arriving on the scene went after Tim. The terrier yelped and fled, leaving Darkwing to fend for himself.  
>"Alright, that's enough," Darkwing said as he glared up at the robots. "I've racked up plenty of frequent flier miles and it's past time for this flight to be grounded!"<br>Twisting his left hand free, Darkwing grabbed his gas gun from the clutches of the robot hovering conveniently nearby and set the gun to fire an electro-magnetic pulse. The robot froze in mid-hover, its weapons and computer backfiring, and plunged to the ground.  
>"Just a little something I picked up from Megavolt..." Darkwing commented as he directed the beam at his former captor, leaving the one still holding him alone for the time being so he could remain airborne. He focused instead on the robots pursuing Tim.<br>The robot holding him requested backup again and squeezed its talons even tighter around Darkwing's right arm. Darkwing grimaced, but didn't panic. He was about to try his fire retardant on his captor again when a pulsing sound and a familiar voice interrupted him.  
>"Need a hand?" Gizmoduck extended one of his robotic arms with a sledgehammer.<br>Darkwing seized the sledgehammer and slammed it into the jawline of the beaked robot. It sparked, smoked, said something incomprehensible, and plummeted.  
>Gizmo pulled Darkwing out of its grasp and tucked him under one arm. "Don't worry, Wingy. I've got you. Together, nothing can stop this superhero team. Neither bullets or bombs or robots or villains or..."<br>"Rain, sleet, nor hail... We get the picture, Giz," Darkwing situated himself on Gizmo's tire. "Right now, we've got to nab Negaduck before he regains consciousness and find Tim and Glomgold..."  
>"Way ahead of you, Partner," Gizmo said brightly while diving back down. He turned on his computer console, showing Darkwing a blueprint of St. Canard. Well, at least of this St. Canard. Gizmo explained that, while he was fighting off his four robot captors, he was airlifted to NegaTower (the tallest building in both worlds), where he saw Glomgold through an office window on the 78th floor. He said he had overheard Negaduck taunting Darkwing from the robots' speakers so he pressed all of his buttons to get away from the robots and made his way over to help.<br>As Gizmoduck finished with his story, they caught up to Tim. Darkwing landed on the sidewalk behind the breathless terrier and fired his magneto beam at the pursuing robots, dropping all three of them in moments.  
>Tim smiled. "Thanks for helping me, fellas. Those 'bots were runnin' my tail off!"<br>"Yep yep yep... All in a days work for the mighty masked mallard," Darkwing regarded his fingertips smugly, spinning his gun on his finger like a cowboy in a Western show before putting it back in its pocket.  
>"And just another last-minute rescue in the life and chronicles of GIZMODUCK!" Gizmo raised a triumphant finger.<br>Darkwing glared condescendingly at him. "Does anybody really buy that corny line where you come from...?" he hissed.  
>"Nevertheless..." Tim interrupted, reaching under his shirt. "Take this. As a token of my gratitude and a symbol of my friendship. If you should see any of our "mutual friends" in the rest of your adventure here, they will know you're on our side..."<br>Although there was no need to clarify which "side" Tim was talking about, Darkwing was puzzled. He automatically opened his hands to accept what Tim pressed into them and stared blankly at the oblong shape. He hesitantly lifted a corner of the handkerchief wrapped around it and started. He recognized that bright turquoise color immediately and recalled his Scraps mentioning something about his "Pappy."  
>Darkwing shook his head and tried to pass it back to Tim. "But this is a family heirloom! I can't take it! It'll leave you defenseless if you get attacked..."<br>"Don't worry, Mr. Darkwing," Tim held up his hands and backed away with a mysterious smile. "I have a trick or two... You're forgetting I live here and I worked with Negaduck... Doesn't get much more dangerous than that, believe me!"  
>"Very well," Gizmo stated cordially. "We shall escort you to more secure quarters and reevaluate our plan for capturing the vile Negaduck, and rescuing our missing person, before returning to our own place of residence... If you're not coming with us, that is..." he smiled, offering Tim a chance to be a hero.<br>Tim raised a decisive hand and shook his head. "Sorry, fellas, but I think I've about done all I can in this 'venture. And I certainly wouldn't want Negaduck to figure out it was me that beaned him."  
>"Well, if we can't convince you otherwise...," Darkwing started.<br>Tim smiled faintly, his shaggy eyebrows shadowing his eyes. "Good luck, fellas. It was an honor meeting you."  
>Gizmo and Darkwing waved goodbye and Darkwing vaulted onto Gizmoduck's shoulders for the drive back when he belatedly remembered something he'd been meaning to ask.<br>"Hey, what about the Friendly Four...?" Darkwing started, but Gizmo fired up his engine and zipped down the sidewalk, leaving Tim behind, covering his ears. Darkwing wanted to throw a tirade over being interrupted, but he settled with a gusty sigh and held on to Gizmo's helmet.  
>They arrived at the spot where they had left Negaduck, but, predictably, the super villain was gone. Gizmo wondered aloud if he was on the right street, but Darkwing pointed to the robots lying on the pavement. Darkwing suggested that they go after Glomgold before Negaduck moved him. Regardless of Glomgold's part in the whole affair, the billionaire was valuable to all parties involved, and Darkwing needed him safe and sound.<p>

* * *

>A few minutes later, Darkwing and Gizmoduck entered the tower room through a window. Darkwing crossed the floor first, watching warily for traps and hidden cameras as he approached the lone, bound figure across from him. He paused in front of the bearded duck and put his hands on his hips, the epitome of tried patience.<br>"Flintheart Glomgold, I presume?" Darkwing asked edgily.  
>"Who wants ta' know?" the older duck demanded.<br>"Darkwing Duck, hero of St. Canard," Darkwing bowed before jumping right to the point. "And I want to know why you framed me!"  
>Glomgold was momentarily taken aback, but he just as quickly composed a sharp reply. "What are ya talkin' about? I don't even know ye!"<br>"Where do I begin?" Darkwing raised his hands exaggeratedly. He started counting off on his fingers. "First, that was you at Della's Diamonds, wasn't it? Who am I kidding? YOU were behind all of those diamond robberies! You had someone in both of those museums swap the real Canard and Nope diamonds with phony facets! It was your trail I followed to the Wacky Mackerel Factory, your cologne I detected, and you were the one who head-butted my jaw!" Darkwing rubbed his chin at the memory, but resumed his accusations before Glomgold could utter a sound. "Somehow, you faked your own death by posing as a burglar in my town so I would chase you. Then you swapped out some poor old sap to play the dead guy! You probably paid off the Medical Examiner to lay those false claims! Or did you swap the real mortician with a hired thug? Where did you get the corpse, huh? Rob a morgue or a hospital, perchance?"  
>"Why would I want to do that? I wouldn't go near a corpse unless it was covered in gold and jewels! And even then, it would have to be dead for a few hundred years!" Glomgold replied tartly.<br>"I don't know why! I'm asking you!" Darkwing spouted off.  
>"Gentlemen, please!" Gizmo interrupted, having entered right behind Darkwing and scoped out the area during the tirade. Turning to Glomgold, he said. "What Darkwing is asking is did you have anything to do with the missing diamonds?"<br>"Why would I tell ya anything?" Glomgold glared back. "You're on Scroogie's side!"  
>"True." Gizmo admitted. "But if you're innocent of all crimes, then as a representative of the law, I am responsible for insuring your safety. If you're guilty, then I have to take you in."<br>"Ask the bozo in the yellow suit!" Glomgold spouted, straining against his ropes. Darkwing, who had occupied himself with working on the ropes' knots, backed a step away from the vehement duck just in time to avoid getting his fingers pinched between the coils. Glomgold explained how Negaduck had betrayed him. "He tricked me into paying him to send me to this hellhole! I wanted to see McDuck beggin' for a living, and be the richest duck in the world! Instead I ended up getting me spats wet traipsin' across the countryside, finding not only is Scroogie better off than me here, my mansion is gone and my counterpart here is a priest!"  
>"Uh, come again?" Gizmo stopped to ask in the middle of patrolling the perimeter.<br>"I said the Negaversion of me is a priest! Are ya goin' deaf now or ya got bolts for brains?" Glomgold snapped.  
>"Sometimes I wonder the same thing..." Darkwing muttered under his breath as he finished untying Glomgold.<br>The elder duck shoved the purple-clad crime fighter aside and adjusted his Tam o'Shanter. "About time," he said impatiently. "Let's shove off and begone from this miserable place..."  
>"Not so fast, there, Gramps..." Negaduck entered the room, holding a remote in his hand. "You forgot to smile for the camera..." he pointed up at a security camera recording them from over the door.<br>"How did I miss that?" Darkwing exclaimed exasperatedly. "I just checked a second ago..."  
>"Easy," Negaduck smirked, "It's in the most obvious spot possible. I can always count on knobs like you to miss the major details."<br>Gizmoduck zoomed over to confront Negaduck. "Desist, Evil-Doer, for I, Gizmoduck, am hereby charged to uphold the law for all upstanding citizens. You, Sir, are guilty of attempted murder, abduction, theft, destruction of public property, spying, and intruding on the civic rights of every citizen of this region."

Negaduck yawned during this tirade and nonchalantly clicked the remote he was holding. Darkwing and Glomgold automatically flinched, expecting robots to fly in and seize them, or traps to fly out of the walls. Instead they heard a squawk of alarm and something akin to a marching band.  
>Turning, the ducks saw Gizmoduck wildly trying to shove a multitude of instrument-playing arms back into their compartments.<br>"AH! My gizmos are akimbo! How did this happen?" Gizmo exclaimed, ducking under a swinging horn.  
>"This," Negaduck held up the black remote with a smirk. "I just had the "inventor" tweak the controls to operate on the same frequency and bandwidth as the suit... And once I have you immobilized, I'll have the schematics replicated and build my very own personal armory."<br>A tall thin man stepped from the hallway into the room at Negaduck's nod. "Gyro Gearloose is the name, and reverse engineering is my game!" the avian grinned fiendishly.  
>Gizmo gaped. He barely recognized the Duckburg inventor. For one thing, he was bald and wearing sunglasses. Another, his posture hadn't been affected by hours of tinkering over odd gadgets, so he lacked the distinctive crook in his neck, adding to his height. Plus, he was wearing a red shirt and black vest, black jeans, and a black beret. Nothing like his usual ensemble.<br>NegaGyro punched the remote again and the Gizmosuit disassembled, sending Fenton tumbling to the floor. Gyro whistled and a whole army of robots entered the room. Within moments, the robots had surrounded the hero and dragged him off. Darkwing and Glomgold backed into each other as several robots moved in on them.  
>Darkwing put on a brave face and glared at his nemesis. "That puny remote won't work on me, Negaduck! And I can take on these robots with my eyes closed! I suggest you surrender while you're ahead."<br>Negaduck chuckled. "I don't think so." Raising a radio, he said, "Move in."  
>Within minutes, a team of heavily armed and armored men charged up the stairs and surrounded Darkwing and Glomgold. Darkwing gulped as he recognized this world's Gryzlikoff and Hooter, both looking far more intimidating and deadly serious. And a little strange, come to think of it. Unlike the other Hooter, this version had a full head of dyed brown hair, plus a hint of a goatee and he wore a yellow coat over a red shirt. Instead of spats, he had on boots. NegaGryzlikoff had on a black suit not unlike Darkwing's Gryz, except he had a leather jacket on over the suit with an ugly skull and crossbones design on the back and the left breast.<br>Darkwing started to say something, but the agents pointed their guns at him. Glomgold elbowed Darkwing in the ribs for making matters worse before raising his hands in surrender. Darkwing started to retort, but swallowed back what he'd been about to say when NegaGryzlikoff poked him with a machine gun.  
>"You have right to remain silent," Gryzlikoff said without a hint of the other Gryzlikoff's humor. "Anything you say will forfeit your life, and your companion's..."<br>Darkwing reluctantly raised his hands. Gryzlikoff cuffed them. As the agent frisked Darkwing's jacket for weapons and tossed his gas gun on the floor, Negaduck called out one last taunt.  
>"Oh Darkwing? Do you like board games? Because I believe there's a word for this situation. Checkmate..." <p>


	10. Chapter 10

Sometime after Darkwing and his companions were arrested, things went haywire in the normal St. Canard.

For security purposes and to help detect any action from FOWL, S.H.U.S.H. routinely scanned the city for energy pulses. During one such scan last night, a warehouse on the wharf emitted a single pulse on a scale equal to one of Megavolt's power surges. Agents investigated and found a truck stolen from a nuclear warhead facility parked outside. A forensic team hastily examined the site and found Darkwing's fingerprints on the steering wheel and door handles, his footprints on the pedals and in the trailer bed, and a receipt under the driver's seat for all the makings of a dirty bomb.  
>Further investigation also turned up a feather outside the warehouse door. According to the evidence, Darkwing was housing a weapon of mass destruction in the warehouse.<p>

Hooter hadn't believed it at first, but Dr. Bellum confirmed everything the reports said. As there was no way to tell the difference between Darkwing and Negaduck beyond a DNA analysis, a full body and feather scan, and voice recognition software, Hooter couldn't prove which of the mallards were responsible. The feather was the only definite proof, and that was proven beyond doubt to be Darkwing's.  
>As protocol called for, Hooter summoned the National Guard and the bomb squad. He was also forced to contact the mayor.<p>

Whatever the unknown weapon was intended for, National Security and the mayor of St. Canard were determined to catch the guilty party before the mallard could act. The only way out for Darkwing was to surrender or to have an intermediary such as Gizmoduck to speak on the his behalf.

Not wanting Darkwing to be without at least one ally, Hooter immediately drove to the site, joining the squad of black sedans and armored trucks and vans already gathered there. Agent Gryzlikoff filled him in on the troop's status. The bomb squad and a S.W.A.T. team were ready to storm the building. The police and National Guard, along with S.H.U.S.H., had the warehouse cordoned off and surrounded. There was no way out, even for someone as clever as Darkwing, without risking life and limb.

Hooter spoke to Dr. Bellum. She didn't have anything to add on the security concern, but she did inform him that she had been in contact with a Mr. Gyro Gearloose from Duckburg who had given her information on the Gizmosuit. She was certain she could contact Gizmoduck through the Bluebill headset in his helmet. If Gizmoduck had the device turned on...

Hooter tried calling Gizmo's elbow phone, but all he got was a busy signal. He had Dr. Bellum try contacting him through the Bluebill, but again, no luck in reaching him. Hooter told her to keep trying and rose a megaphone (nearly as long as he was tall) to his beak.

"Darkwing Duck. Come out with your hands up immediately!"

He waited. He knew Darkwing would recognize his voice and respond somehow. However, two minutes ticked by, then five, and still no response.

Hooter glanced at Dr. Bellum. She shook her head, still having no luck in raising Gizmoduck.

Seeing Gryzlikoff remove the safety from his gun, Hooter sighed and turned to Dr. Bellum again.

"I don't suppose we have another way of reaching either Darkwing or Gizmoduck...?" he asked tiredly, wiping his head with a handkerchief.

"I'm sure there's a simple explanation, Director," she replied cheerfully. "The evidence may point at Darkwing, but my psychological evaluation of him, while revealing a nasty temper and a tendency towards violence, showed him incapable of taking a life."

"Vhat about "almost" taking life?" Gryz growled over his targeting scope. "That duck is valking disaster zone. It is small vonder he has not killed anyone by accident before."

Hooter was too distracted to comment as he watched the S.W.A.T. team move in. S.H.U.S.H. may have had priority on a normal day, but with national security on the line, and Gizmoduck possibly compromised, the government was unwilling to take chances. Hooter was aware that Darkwing's chances of walking out alive were growing slimmer by the minute. And there was little he could do about it...

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Darkwing, Glomgold, and Fenton were restrained and alone in a penthouse suite emptied of everything except a refrigerator, sink, TV, an easy chair, and a steel table with a light fixture overhead. Plus the uncomfortable things they were fastened to. All signs that Negaduck enjoyed himself at the expense of others.<p>

Fenton was strapped to a table tilted at an angle so he could see everything in the room. The Gizmosuit had been collected by NegaGyro promptly after their defeat and Negaduck had left with his lackey, leaving the three alone with nothing to occupy their attention.

Darkwing was on a contraption similar to Fenton's, with a strap around his neck and chest in addition to his legs and arms. He was beyond bored and frustrated with the whole situation, including his own failure to break free. The first thing Negaduck had done was personally remove Darkwing's concealed weapons, including his cufflinks. Without these, there was little Darkwing could do but wait.

By his count, at least an hour had passed since Negaduck had left and it was the first time Darkwing had ever spent that much time immobile without knowing at least part of a villain's plan. He understood that his foe was probably waiting for something else to fall into place before gloating and torturing him, but Darkwing still didn't understand why Glomgold was here. Or why Negaduck had laid such an elaborate trap to ruin Darkwing in his own world before leading him to the Negaverse. Why not just bring him here in the first place?

As usual, the combination of impatience, impotence, and immobility left Darkwing in a temper.

"So this is it. The mighty midnight mallard mastered by his mortal masked foe, with nothing certain except mangled truth and future maiming. And nothing to do but mingle with minions of despair and disgrace..." Darkwing muttered, glaring across the room at Fenton.

Glomgold, chained to a heavy wood chair situated between the two heroes with his back to Fenton, assumed Darkwing was looking at him and glared back.

"Who are ya calling disgraced? I stayed true to my character. Ask Scroogie, or better yet, ask him!" he inclined his head toward Fenton.

"I was talking about him...!" Darkwing growled through his teeth.

"Hey!" Fenton protested. "This wasn't my fault!"

"Of course not..." Darkwing said mockingly. "You only bungled every opportunity I had to close this case!"

"How so?" Fenton challenged.

"Where do I begin? First, you blotched my attempt to subdue the fiend at the jewelry store..."

"Watch who you call a fiend, ya feathered fop!" Glomgold snapped, but Darkwing was more interested in berating Fenton than arguing with a duck he barely knew.

"Do you mind!" he glared at Glomgold. "I'll pay you respect when you earn some! Now, as I was saying, Giz, you ruined the evidence at the crime scene. Both crime scenes, actually, as I recall seeing your tire tracks at the McDuck Museum too. You lost the culprit, offered no help whatsoever when I was tangled in that oxygen cord you had to So Kindly offer the criminal... Not to mention, you were of little asset on the trail, you ruined my entrance, and ran over my foot!"

"I said I was sorry!" Fenton protested. Darkwing kept speaking over him.

"Then you show up at my place, dig up most of my secrets without permission, and then you tried to arrest me!"

"I was only doing my job!" Fenton put in, but again Darkwing ignored him.

"Then, when you finally started making yourself useful, you ruined a stealth mission, nearly gave us away to an unknown entity, and forfeited not only your freedom to the most fiendish foe in two worlds, but you also lost your only claim to be a hero! Now Negaduck has the Gizmosuit, and it won't be long before he starts World War Three as a one-man army. He'll have weapons and impervious armor and a hideout no one in our world can reach! And he'll have more robots, or maybe even an army of Gizmoducks, take over our world! And it's all your fault!"

"MY fault! You're the one who nearly killed a guy! And you tripped yourself up by being so arrogant and stubborn, when you could have made things ten times easier by working with me in the first place!"

"Work with you? I'd rather have my feathers plucked one by one than spend another day in your company! You are disrespectful of personal property..."

Fenton laughed dryly. "Says the guy who nearly smashed an entire showcase of rare and valuable specimens at the museum, all because he just had to tackle someone he only thought was up to no good!"

"And I was right, wasn't I!" Darkwing snapped. "The curator WAS up to no good!"

"That's beside the point!" Fenton replied. "You ruined an evening of festivities and honest fun by acting impulsively."

"Oh, this from the guy who knocked over a S.H.U.S.H. agent with a door! How's Agent Dog doing by the way? Was he literally flattened when you threw open the door, or did he just get a few bruises?" Darkwing prodded.

"Will you two shut yer traps?" Glomgold shouted, "I'd rather die now than listen to either one of ya a moment longer!"

"Well now, aren't we cozy?" Negaduck's voice interrupted them as he entered the room. All three ducks glared at him. He grinned. "It's almost enough to warm my heart. If I had one!"

Darkwing was about to spout something virulent, but Fenton beat him to the punch.

"You won't get away with this, you pugnacious, pungent, peril-minded polecat of a duck, you!" Fenton snarled.

"Yeah, like he said!" Darkwing echoed.

"Oh puhlease," Negaduck sounded eerily like his opposite. "As if I have anything to fear from you two. You're in my world now, and in the Negaverse, I make the rules! You just wish you were this ambitious," he sneered at Darkwing. "And you," he called to Fenton. "Keep your beak shut or you'll end up losing it! You're nothing without that cheap suit, so get over yourself! Loser!"

"Why ya cheatin', backstabbin', heartless heathen!" Glomgold sputtered. "I gave ya those diamonds yer cartin' around! You were supposed to arrange my meetin' with McDuck an' get me my mansion an'..."

"Spare me the sob story, old man. I'm Negaduck, remember? The biggest heartless cheater of all! By the way, thanks for my new friends..." Negaduck pulled the diamonds out of his pockets and held them up in each hand. "Nope and Canard will make me the richest duck in both worlds! And since I've already bought out most of my competition, all it'll take to convert the Normalverse into my world is a little cleaning out!"

"That's what this was all about?" Darkwing demanded. "You weren't satisfied enough with one world, you had to go after mine?"

"Naturally. You ought to be honored you spineless little sap! At least you caught someone's attention! And don't even think of escaping! I'll be watching your every move and I've got this whole place rigged to blow at the press of a button... Of course, my men don't know that, but what they don't know will only kill them!""

"Hey! What about me? Why'dya bring me here with these bunglers?" Glomgold demanded. "All I wanted was to be the richest duck in one world! You said there were thousands of worlds!"

"There are. I just didn't want to share! Ha! Besides, I couldn't leave any "loose" ends lying around. Even an old codger like you still has plenty of ambition, and that doesn't go well in my world..."

"So then send me back ta' my own world! I've seen what I wanted here! I'll even fund yer takeover if ya want!" Glomgold said fiercely.

"Why, so you can lord it over me when I succeed? Forget it! I'll fund my own projects! Scrooge may be the richest honest duck in that world, but I'm the richest criminal mind, and with these babies..." he kissed the aqua green Nope diamond. "I'll have enough to buy my own personal army! That is, IF I feel like sharing! ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Hold it!" Fenton demanded as Negaduck turned toward the door. "If you're planning on killing us anyway, the least you could do is explain why."

Just to annoy Darkwing, who hated long, elaborate explanations, Negaduck took the opportunity to show off his cleverness.

"Well I guess it doesn't hurt to tell how ingenious my plan was... After Darkwing left me in the universal time stream to be sucked into oblivion, I saved myself by climbing into a bathtub. Bet you never guessed a bathtub could be a portal back to YOUR world, huh?" Negaduck jeered at Darkwing. He continued. "This bathtub happened to have a real life counterpart in your world. The "antique" happened to have been owned by an eccentric who had other uses for it. He had made it into a time machine, but lost interest and disassembled it, selling it to "Gramps" for a few bucks. I spied on that idiot inventor for a few hours, but it was obvious he had just as many screws loose as that knob Megavolt. Then I came up with a brilliant idea. If that Gyro Gearloose could make a time machine out of a bathtub, what could MY Gyro do?  
>"So I went looking for other portals to the Negaverse. Of course, it was mighty tempting to go back and erase every hint of your existence," at this Negaduck got right up in Darkwing's face. He flipped Darkwing's bill and walked away, pacing the room in his narration. "...I had a better idea for escalating my career. As easy as it was to turn all of St. Canard against their "hero" the first time with minor crimes, I could turn the entire world against you by setting up the ultimate crime! And guess who happened to blunder onto my doorstep...?"<p>

Negaduck turned to sneer at Glomgold. Glomgold tried to slug him, but the restraints held him back.  
>"Mr. Moneybags here was spying on his rival, McDuck. He'd hired a few useless thugs and the St. Canard museum curator to rob McDuck blind. I left him to his devices, but," Negaduck included Gizmoduck and Darkwing with a sweeping hand gesture. "You both know how that ended up. You," pointing to Darkwing, "caught his thugs at Jay Jeweler's and you," pointing at Gizmoduck "got the curator arrested. But by then, I had already laid my plans... I snuck into Jay Jewelers during the robbery and swapped the loot bag with one full of paper."<p>

Darkwing arched an eyebrow. He had forgotten that detail in light of more recent events, but he remembered it as an oddity.

"I carried off the jewels and caught up with "Gramps" here," Negaduck gestured at Glomgold again, "while he was running away from you!" Negaduck laughed at both Glomgold and Darkwing. "You see, the old dotard himself was there at the store. You didn't know the Jay store brand was recently purchased by McDuck Corporation, did you?" he asked Darkwing. "So I made Glomgold an offer. He would hit one more store, owned by McDuck of course, and draw you out. He'd take a few hits to give you enough reasonable doubt to believe you might have actually "killed" someone..." Negaduck pouted with mock sympathy. "And then he'd ditch you and meet up with me to lay a real corpse at the scene, thereby destroying your "sterling reputation" and leaving McDuck with the repair bills!"

Negaduck turned his attention back to Glomgold.  
>"Things got even better when your old adversary showed up, didn't they? I'm sure you would have had more time to tease McDuck, if you had used that tool I gave you a little sooner and taken out Gizmoduck. Nonetheless..."<p>

"Wait, what tool?" Fenton asked.

"Why the pen, of course," Negaduck pulled the said object out of his pocket. It looked like an ordinary calligraphy pen, with a quill tip. "This pen emits an electrostatic charge capable of incapacitating your puny gizmos, courtesy of Gyro..."

Fenton trembled with rage at the name of his friend, even though he knew which Gyro Negaduck was referring to.

"Moving on... A few months ago, an old friend of mine tried going the straight and narrow by getting a degree and a job. Only thing is, he chose to work at the SCPD. And you know how I love meddling with police work... So I dished up some dirt and blackmailed him into helping me set you up, Dorkwing."

"Who! I'll make sure he's transferred to another state after this!" Darkwing snapped.

"Oh, I'm sooo intimidated. Face it, Darkjerk! You're history. A total failure! The police will find you skulking the rooftop of the Children's Hospital and take you out of commission. After that, all the thugs you've put behind bars will be freed, all the charges against them dropped, and it'll be lovely chaos in all of St. Canard. Ripe for MY takeover scheme..."

"You'll never get away with this, you maniacal monster! Even if I fail, someone else will rise to take my place in stopping you!" Darkwing snarled, struggling uselessly against his bonds. Negaduck leaned over him until their beaks were almost touching, peering straight into his eyes.

"I'm counting on that..." he hissed darkly.

Darkwing flinched, thinking of Gosalyn. If she went out as Quiverwing Quack, or any of her other heroic noms de guerre, Negaduck would be waiting for her. Darkwing could only imagine what would happen next, and it was worse than his own primal fear of what his enemy would do to him.

Negaduck's eyes glittered. He'd read Darkwing's reaction and basked in it. He grinned and bowed to his captive audience.  
>"Well, I'm off to cause some mortal mayhem. Toodles!"<p>

"Wait!" Fenton called. "What about my suit?"

"I'm glad you asked..." Negaduck's face showed precisely the opposite reaction, but he continued cordially and Darkwing grimaced as he heard another long story coming. "Here, you want it so bad, you can have it!"

Negaduck threw open the door and Gyro, along with NegaHooter and a few other S.H.U.S.H. agents, brought in the pieces. Fenton and Darkwing blinked. They hadn't expected that.

Gyro was holding a net book, frowning in concentration.  
>"I've run a number of diagnostics on the suit, but other than the make and layout of the electronics, I haven't been able to hack the memory. It needs a code to activate it, and someone to control it. I can override the computer and the circuits, and I can run a decoding program, but it'll take a few hours..."<p>

"Nonsense..." Negaduck said calmly, walking over to Fenton. "This will only take a few minutes..."

"If you think I'm going to give you the code, you have another thought coming, Buster! I can take anything you throw at me!" Fenton said fiercely, trying to sound braver than he actually felt. Unlike Darkwing, he did not have a very high level of pain tolerance.

Negaduck smirked. He reached up and plucked a feather from Fenton's head and tickled Fenton's foot with it. Fenton was soon beside himself with laughter, barely able to breath. Negaduck mercilessly moved to the other foot.

"You...Ha ha! You'll tire out...hee hee...soon enough Hoo hoo hoo hoo! Nega ga ga ha ha ha Negaduck!" Fenton gasped between laughs. "I can hee hee do this all night!"

"True..." Negaduck smiled calmly. "But who said anything about an all-nighter?"

He stepped back and a small robot that looked more like a round metal recycle bin than a machine drove up to Fenton. Negaduck put the feather in one of the pincers and left the robot in charge of tickle torture.

Fenton was visibly sweating now and laughing so hard he almost choked.

Darkwing could see his friend was losing control. Fenton would likely give up the Gizmosuit code now, simply because he couldn't keep his beak shut.

Negaduck walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out an apple. Leaning casually against the sink, he kept an eye on Fenton and the robot over his snack. The robot was now tickling Fenton's leg, which, lacking the callouses, was even more sensitive than his feet. Fenton howled and writhed helplessly, his eyes watering and his voice roughening.

"You foul felonious fiend!" Darkwing snapped at Negaduck. "Just kill us and get it over with!"

"Don't worry, Darkwand. I'll get around to that soon enough," Negaduck finished his apple and tossed the core at Darkwing, hitting him in the head. Darkwing grit his teeth indignantly. Negaduck smirked and casually strode toward the door. "I see you don't appreciate my company anymore, so I'll leave you and your friends to your party. Enjoy! It's the last party you'll ever see again. Ha ha ha ha!"

"Wait!" Glomgold demanded. "Whatever ya want, I'll double it! Just get me away from these blockheads!" Negaduck waved his hand dismissively. Glomgold yelled, "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Nothing. Just bad timing on your part, Old Timer." Negaduck kept on walking.

Pausing at the door, Negaduck threw one last jibe at Glomgold. "Too bad you had to get ambitious on me, Gramps! You could have bought yourself my protection. Oh well. I'm certain Shere Khan would be happy to lighten my pockets for me. Even as I steal from his!"

With a round of cackling, the mallard left. The prisoners heard Gyro and Hooter discuss their progress on locating NegaFenton and updating the Gizmosuit. Then the head lackeys split off, giving orders to the guards to shoot if any of the prisoners moved.

The tickling went on. When the feather finally broke from overuse, the robot plucked another one from Fenton's abused head. Poor Fenton actually welcomed the pain as something to focus on besides his nerves. The robot wore out the other feather too, but it did something unexpected. It drove over to a vacant corner and shut down. Silence fell over the room.

"Finally! About time that thing ran out of steam," Darkwing glared at the robot. "Or whatever it runs on... You okay over there, Fen?"

"Yeah..." Fenton croaked, his voice strained. "Nothing some of Ma'Ma's honey tea and a bubble bath couldn't fix... Blathering blatherskite, I never thought laughing could hurt so much! Uh oh...!"

"What do you mean, "uh oh?"" Darkwing started to ask, but he saw the reason momentarily and echoed the reaction.

"What now?" Glomgold grouched, unable to see Fenton behind him, but Darkwing ignored him.

Like magic, the Gizmosuit rose up off the floor, hovering in the air. The pieces shot across and fastened on to Fenton, tearing the bonds holding him from the table. Within seconds he was transformed into Gizmoduck.

"THAT was the code?" Darkwing asked incredulously.

"What code?" Glomgold demanded.

Before Darkwing could formulate a response or even the thought of escape, the little robot in the corner came back on line and zipped over to Gizmoduck. Its pincers moved in a blur, securing power cables from its midsection to the Gizmosuit and fastening a new set of bonds to Gizmo's wrists and waist, pressing him against the table again. The robot settled next to the table and started up some kind of motor. Gizmo tried to move and cried out in pain as sparks flew through the Gizmosuit and him. He moved his head to see what had shocked him and again a current raced through him.

"YIIEEE! I think I'm having second thoughts about the tickling..." he said.

A couple minutes later, Gyro entered, pushing a cart with a laptop and numerous wires and a printer on it. He hooked up the wires to the Gizmo computer and ran diagnostics, copying programming files to his laptop. Gizmo tried to resist, but another shock coursed through him. Gyro grinned and said conversationally.

"You might want to stay still, Mister. My workstation is grounded, but you might overload the suit's circuits before I'm finished with my scan, and you don't want to make Lord Negaduck mad."

"Mad? He's already mad!" Gizmo declared. "I've never, in all my feats as a superhero, faced such a crazy canard."

Gyro smirked. "I meant "mad" literally. He was in a good mood when he left. You don't want to see him when he's upset."

"He's right," Darkwing commented flatly. "You really Really don't want to see that..."

Gyro glanced over his shoulder at Darkwing before returning to his work.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you how you defeated Negaduck before. You don't seem all that dangerous to me..."

"WHAT!" Darkwing exclaimed. "I'm perfectly capable of being dangerous! My motto is "let's get dangerous!" Just turn me loose for a moment and I'll show you!"

Gyro grinned. "That would be an interesting experiment, considering you're weaponless and I have all of the Negabots at my command. If I were in charge, I'd take you up on that offer. Still, I think I'd rather stay on the Boss's good side for now..."

"Gee, I didn't know he had one..." Darkwing growled, still simmering.

Gyro ignored him and kept on working.

Gizmoduck moved again and yelped as a strong shock jolted him. He passed out. A light started flashing on the Gizmosuit.

At the same moment, Gyro leaned forward, staring at his screen intently. He started typing vigorously, slouching over the keyboard. The screen flashed and went black. Gyro cursed and pressed some more keys and checked the lines leading to the suit.

"What happened?" he demanded of the little robot hooked to the suit, his eyes flashing fiercely. "My equipment was supposed to be safeguarded against surges. Did you do something different?"

The robot didn't have a head to shake or a voice box to speak with, but it responded to its inventor by flashing a few colored lights.

"What do you mean it wasn't you? It had to be! He can't do anything!" Gyro pointed at Gizmoduck.

The robot flashed its lights in a different code and Gyro kicked it impulsively,

shocking himself and hurting his foot. He fell backwards and crashed into his cart, knocking all the equipment down. NegaHooter and some of his agents rushed in to see what the commotion was.

"Agent Gearloose, what is the meaning of this!" Hooter demanded, his voice the same, but his tone more authoritative.

Agent Gryzlikoff was checking the equipment on the cart. "Sir, the computer is fissured..."

"That's "fizzled"..." Darkwing automatically corrected, earning a deadly glare from the bear in response.

"Silence!" Hooter barked. "You," Hooter pointed to Gryzlikoff, "Take the cart and equipment down to the lab..."

"Yes Sir..." Gryzlikoff growled resentfully. In this world, he was not on friendly terms with his boss.

"And you," Hooter pointed to Gyro. "Get cleaned up. We can't have Lord Negaduck seeing you sitting on the floor like this..."

Gyro reluctantly got up and headed out, giving the minute owl a withering glare as he passed by.

"And step on it Man!" Hooter barked. Gyro limped along faster. Hooter ordered the rest of his men to remove the robot and post a guard at the door. Within a few moments, the room was clear of all except its three captives.

Darkwing's eyes roved the room. He counted three video cameras recording each prisoner, plus at least two that he could see guarding him. The motion sensor opposite from the door had just stopped blinking but, knowing his archenemy, Darkwing suspected lasers, flamethrowers, and poison-laced arrows were set in the walls throughout the building in case of escape. Very high security. But then again, the current occupants, chiefly himself, were probably the worst criminals this room had seen in a while, if ever.

However there was one thing that was to Darkwing's advantage. Negaduck, and his minions, had left them alone, unharmed, with their costumes intact. Or at least Gizmo's was... And Darkwing saw one way of getting out of here that wasn't guarded by soldiers, cameras, or traps. The windows... The height would deter an ordinary civilian or criminal, but for two superheroes, it was a definite, and most likely the only, option.

Darkwing looked across at Gizmoduck. Fenton was coming around and seemed none the worse for wear. Darkwing smiled, both relieved that his friend was alright and eager to put a formulating plan into action.

"Hey Giz, how many fingers am I holding up?" Darkwing asked.

Fenton shook his head and squinted. "How can I count fingers when you have four hands...?" he protested dizzily. "I see 16 and that's not even physically possible..."

"Sorry, Pal... Go back to your daydreaming," Darkwing said softly.

"Nah..." Fenton replied, his voice sounding more normal. "I think I've had enough naps for the time being. The Gizmosuit must have rebooted or something... I feel better than I have since we got here and almost all my gizmos are back on line."

"That's great, Giz... Just great." Darkwing's voice sounded unenthusiastic, but he could hardly hide the grin that was spreading on his face.

Noticing one of the cameras had zoomed in on his expression, Darkwing decided to play down his mounting excitement. The last thing he wanted his nemesis to see was that he had a plan. And what better way to conceal his thoughts than to act like he was already defeated?

"Well Giz, I guess this is goodbye..." Darkwing dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes.

"Don't say that! There's always a chance of something happening!" Fenton protested in his normal voice.

As far as Fenton and the cameras knew, Darkwing had genuinely given up. Even Glomgold slouched a little lower in his seat after looking the caped canard over and seeing the lines of defeat in his posture.

While not normally a good actor, Darkwing's heavy tone and slumped shoulders gave exactly the impression he wanted. The world-weary mallard lifted his head slightly to meet Fenton's stare with a degree of finality.

"I know we don't necessarily agree with each other on everything, but I want to say, with all honesty, it's been an honor knowing you, Giz."

Fenton started to retort, but he realized what his rival/friend had just admitted and melted.

"Aw thanks, Wingy. I knew you'd come around sometime. Granted, you could have chosen a time when we weren't all about to die and our world as we knew it wasn't about to be destroyed, but...hey, at least the thought counts! Right...?"

Fenton looked up and found Darkwing's eyes locked on him intently. He still felt intimidated by that icy stare and couldn't help a slight gulp. Hoping to gain some insight into Darkwing's churning mind, Fenton spoke hesitantly.

"Wingy?"

Darkwing dropped his head again, but there had been a definite sparkle in his eye. Fenton started getting suspicious. He was about to try to prompt him again when he heard his companion's voice, barely audible and projected to the floor, but clearly meant for him.

"Hey Giz? Technically speaking, what would happen if somebody said the code while you're still hooked up to that thing?"

"I'm not sure. I'm no Gyro, but I imagine the suit would try to respond. It's getting low on battery, so it might expend all its remaining energy, or it could overload the circuits and fry me. Why?"

Darkwing looked at him pointedly and grinned.

Fenton paled. "Oh no. No! You can't!"

"Let's get Dangerous! Blathering blatherskite!"

The suit hummed and vibrated, shaking Fenton and moving his limbs without his consent. The battery on the floor raised the charge, shocking Fenton through his bindings.

"Yeow! What have you done!" Fenton cried.

The wheel attachment flew across the room, followed by one arm, then the other, wrenching out from under the wrist bands. The torso and chest pieces took longer to work their way loose, but by the time the helmet had slammed on top of Darkwing's hat, the rest of the suit was assembled.

Blinded by his hat brim crumpling under the visor, Darkwing sputtered and jerked at his hat, breaking loose from his own bonds with the added weight and strength of the alloy suit. The helmet was secured to his neck with a throat latch and no amount of tugging would loosen it.

Losing patience, Darkwing started hitting the helmet with his hand, accidentally setting off several gizmos set in both helmet and the gauntlet. By the time he got the visor lifted, Darkwing had reduced the room to Swiss cheese, with a scared-stiff Glomgold and Fenton clinging to each other across from him.

"Whoops..." Darkwing muttered when he saw his companions.

Glomgold recovered first and shook his fist. "Watch where ya point that thing, ya block head!"

In the same breath, the door to their prison rattled. Darkwing's projectiles had damaged the hinges, but a finger of flame from a blowtorch evidenced how the villains planned to get in.

Darkwing unsteadily drove over to the sink to retrieve his gas gun and Tim's knife. Finding an empty compartment in the suit by pure accident, Darkwing deposited the items, ruefully leaving his other assorted instruments behind in favor of a hasty retreat.

Darkwing bent down in front of Glomgold and Fenton and yelled "Climb on!"

"Not until I get the suit back!" Fenton exclaimed.

"There isn't time! Just tell me which button activates the propeller again!"

"The blue one! But..."

Grabbing Glomgold and Fenton by their waists, Darkwing told Fenton to blast an escape route through the wall. Fenoton activated the laser cannon, or as he called it the quacker blaster, and scrambled up onto the suit's broad shoulder. Darkwing aimed the blaster at the obstacle. The wall gave way and the three ducks plummeted two stories before the propeller got enough power to compensate for the added weight.

The visor clapped down again, folding the hat brim over Darkwing's eyes.

"Ack! I can't see!" Darkwing squawked as he struggled with the visor. The suit bobbed up and down in the air like a cork in water.

Glomgold yelled "Look out!"

A building was directly in their flight path.

"Fenton, get this ridiculous helmet off of me!" Darkwing exclaimed, still focused on his immediate impediment.

"I can't!" Fenton protested. "The helmet only comes off when the suit's inactive! The only way to get it off now is to say the code words or use a remote!"

"Then say them!" Glomgold snapped.

"No way! I'm not about to let you in on the secret!" Fenton shook his head. Another dip in their flight forced him to hold on tighter. "Not even Mr. McDuck knows it!"

"Then either get my hat off or help me steer!" Darkwing yelled.

The building was dangerously close. Fenton turned Darkwing's head and Darkwing shifted his weight in that direction, the suit just steering clear of the tower, although Darkwing bumped an elbow against it. Darkwing fumed.

"You steer, I'll get the blasted hat!" Glomgold snapped, pulling himself upright. He tugged on the protruding hat brim, finally yanking it out from under the helmet. Darkwing sighed in relief, but it was short-lived. Gyro' and S.H.U.S.H.'s fleet of flying robots surrounded them.

"Aim right!" Fenton yelled. Darkwing lifted his right arm and Fenton activated the laser, taking out three robots. A fourth closed in and snatched Fenton from his perch.

Darkwing turned to follow his kidnapped friend, looking at the assorted buttons on his arm for a weapon.

"Which button did he push...?" he muttered irritably. Glomgold reached around and punched it. The laser took out a car on the street. "You could have just told me, ya know!" Darkwing growled.

"Keep flying, ya big oaf! I'll handle the shootin'!" Glomgold snapped.

"Yeah right, like I'm supposed to trust you!" Darkwing replied tartly.

"After your demonstration, we're lucky we weren't all killed! Now quit yer arguing and step on it!" Glomgold fired the laser again, aiming Darkwing's arm like it was a piece of machinery.

Darkwing wasn't sure how to accelerate, but he could slow the robot down. Diving down, and alarming his remaining passenger, he veered toward a broken street lamp. Breaking it off easily, he threw it, javelin-style, straight at the robot. It whizzed past Fenton's head, ruffling his hair feathers, and struck the robot's beak.

The machine spun and took a nose dive, Fenton screaming in its talons. Darkwing stretched his arms out, and just as he had hoped, the suit's hydraulics automatically extended his reach, snagging the imperiled duck and his kidnapper. Darkwing had a bit of trouble retracting the arms, but he successfully knocked the robot's pincers off Fenton's arms. The panting duck clung to him gratefully.

"Thanks, Wingy... I...owe...you...one..."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll tally the score later. Now tell me which is the fastest way to S.H.U.S.H.!"

"How should I know? You were their main field agent!" Fenton exclaimed, clambering back onto his shoulder.

Darkwing scowled. "I meant which transportation form is faster: driving or flying?"

"Oh! Well when you put it that way..." Fenton leaned over to press another button.

The suit slowed to a stop. Darkwing started to sputter at him when they all felt something shift. An engine started up and suddenly they were flung forward. All three hollered as Darkwing struggled to steer around blurred buildings. The built-in rocket pack added propulsion, but it quickly died out, leaving them temporarily flying from the momentum. Then gravity took over and they plummeted, through a roof, down several floors, and into, of all things, a bathtub. All three groaned miserably as the dust settled.

"Now I know... how Launchpad feels...Doh..." Fenton slipped to the floor.

"Ah! My achin' back..." Glomgold muttered from under the suit's elbow, squished between the shower wall and Darkwing. Managing to get himself upright, Glomgold staggered out of the tub and straightened slowly, pushing everything back into alignment.

"I second that..." Darkwing said dizzily. He tried to stand, but the suit was too heavy for him to sit up in, and the tub was too small to maneuver in. "Hey Giz, could you give me a hand here?"

"I should give ya a fist in the beak, ya lunatic! You've nearly killed us twice in two minutes!" Glomgold shook his fist in front of the visor.

"Gee, won't Launchpad be proud..." Darkwing growled. "For your information, I just saved us from..."

"Shh!" Fenton interrupted. "Do you hear that?"

"What, water dripping from the faucet I just squashed or debris falling from the impromptu remoldeling we just did?" Darkwing asked sarcastically.

"Shut yer trap, ya moron! I hear it too!" Glomgold held his hand up to his ear slit, craning his head toward the bathroom window.

"Nobody, but nobody tells Darkwing Duck to..." Darkwing's threat faded as he also caught the faint buzzing noise that sounded like something from a scifi movie. "Wait, I think I... Yes! I know that sound! Come on!" he lurched upright and nearly fell over, catching himself on the tub rim. "Will somebody please lend me a hand here! We've got to go down!"

"Haven't we gone far enough already?" Glomgold pointed at the four levels above them.

"No! Listen! Don't you recognize that? It's a inter-dimensional portal! The energy fluctuations are creating an audible drone and I can feel the magnetism affecting this suit! There must be one directly below us! This is our chance to go home!"

"Sounds good to me!" Fenton leaned close and whispered the code words. The suit transferred to him, dumping Darkwing unceremoniously in the tub. Extracting the muttering mallard by his cape, Gizmoduck wheeled his way to the bathroom door.

"No wait!" Darkwing held up his hands protestingly. "We can't just…"

Too late. Just as Giz reached for the door knob, the wood crashed down on top of both mallards and the bathroom window shattered. Three of Gyro's robots closed in on the ducks from the door while a fourth hovered outside the window.

"Targets located at Magnum Avenue in apartment 226. Mission: capture or destroy," the female voice droned.

"Destroy?" Gizmo exclaimed.

"Duck!" Darkwing hollered as the robot coming through the window launched a rocket at them. Gizmo didn't react quickly enough and he was blown across the room into the wall. Darkwing hurried over to him.

"Gizmoduck! Give me my gun! Quick!"

Gizmo dizzily pressed a button and Darkwing extracted the revealed items, pocketing the knife while checking to see what ammunition he had left. There was only one gas canister left and he didn't think it would be of any use against the robots. He looked around for something else he could use.

Glomgold surprised him by anticipating the need and holding up a round decorative bath handle he'd pried off the sink. He held two more in his other hand. They were just about the right size to fit in the gas gun's nozzle. Darkwing seized one, ejected the gas can, and fired a knob at the middle robot coming through the door.

The knob ricocheted off the robot's visor.

"Give me that!" Glomgold grabbed for the gun. "I can shoot better than that..."

"Hey! That's my personal firearm! Get your paws off of it!" Darkwing protested. They started a tug-of-war, neither noticing the bath handle flying over their heads, bouncing off the robot at the window, and hitting the shower curtain rod, toppling on top of the lone robot.

With its visor covered, the computer tried compensating by randomly shooting at the curtain. The shots peppered all around the sparring ducks and hammered the other robots.

Meanwhile, the still airborne bath handle smashed the vanity mirror, raining shards on top of the three robots already under barrage from their blinded companion. The broken bits of mirror worked like knives, scarring the visors, wings, and accoutrements of the robots. These weakened spots allowed the bullets from the fourth robot to pierce their armor and all three machines started leaking fuel and sparks. They combusted, the shrapnel from their explosion peppering the remaining robot. It went the same route as its companions, leaving Darkwing and Glomgold arm locked in a circle of destruction, their clothes darkened with smoke and debris. Both ducks blinked in surprise before Darkwing stepped back to survey what had happened.

"Ha! How's that for one shot?" he gloated to Glomgold. Glomgold rolled his eyes. Darkwing turned his attention back to Gizmoduck.

"Hey Giz. Do you still feel the magnetic pull?"

Gizmo steadied himself against the doorframe and took his time answering.

"Yes. From two directions. One is below us. The other is southwest of here. It's not very strong, but it feels the same as the other portal..."

"Then southwest it is!" Darkwing banged his fist in his palm. Without further ado, he hurried to the building's elevator and, finding it in working order, waved impatiently for his companions.

"What about the closer one?" Glomgold asked.

"It's too close," Darkwing answered vaguely. "And I've just got a feeling it isn't the one we're looking for, now come on!"

Glomgold looked quizzically up at Gizmo. "Is he always this pushy?"

"He hasn't even gotten started yet..." Gizmo bemoaned.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Sorry for the odd cutoff here. This chapter is already 20 pages, so there will be one more chapter.<em>


	11. Chapter 11

A few minutes later, the trio found themselves at what would have been the wharf in their St. Canard, but here, it was just a dry basin filled with garbage. The stench was noxious. The few buildings around the pier were in just as bad a shape as most of the city and the ships were leaning against each other haphazardly.

Glomgold looked around with his beak wrinkled in distaste. "What a dump...I wouldn't buy this property if it was handed to me on a silver platter!"

"Hey hey hey! This is my city you're talking about here!" Darkwing bristled. "It may not look like much now, but I'm sure with a little loving care it could be restored to its former glory..."

"Not to mention a trash compacter..." Gizmoduck added. "Makes me appreciate littering laws even more..."

"Besides," Darkwing added. "Your place isn't any better, "Glumgold." That house is good for nothing but rats..."

"Awk!" Glomgold put a hand to his head."Don't remind me. I'm doin' mah best to forget that curse-ed place..."

"Speaking of which, maybe we should head back there now..." Gizmo said. "My battery is low, but I think I can still drive us there in a reasonable amount of time."

"Nonsense!" Darkwing waved his hand as he entered a building from which the vibrations seemed to be coming. The tinkling noise and pressure increased as he opened the door. "We're this close to a dimensional portal. We might as well keep moving toward it."

"But how will we know it will take us home?" Gizmo asked, bracing himself against the magnetic pull.

Darkwing shrugged. "It feels right... It's just a guess, but Negaduck did say he tracked down as many portals as possible. That leaves to reason that he would have them scattered throughout St. Canard so he would have an escape route..."

"Escape from what?" Glomgold grouched as he followed Darkwing. "This is his turf..."

"Precisely..." Negaduck's voice came from just ahead. He lit a flare, revealing a warehouse empty of anything except an armoire. "Thought you'd get away easy, did ya?" Negaduck's voice dripped with scorn. "Didn't realize I was tracking you, huh? I've been planning this for a year. I've covered every angle ahead of time."

"Speaking of which," Darkwing started, his mind piecing together bits and pieces from the past few days. "How many people did you employ? The museum curator was working for you. The medical examiner was blackmailed. You had the deceased Bill Harrington dressed as Glomgold, and obviously Mr. Glomgold got his hands dirty for you... How many other mindless minions did you maneuver and manipulate in both worlds?"

"Ooh. Looks like somebody was paying attention in class. About time you developed another brain cell, Dipwing. I'd love to tell you all about it, but my time is precious and you have a date with destiny."

"Me?" Darkwing gestured to himself.

"Oh yes. I set out to destroy you, remember? And right now, your S.H.U.S.H. is priming for battle against their favorite "hero." Remember that feather?" Negaduck pointed to his own head, indicating the spot from which he had pulled one from Darkwing's head. "I placed it in the vicinity of a stolen truck from a nuclear factory. That, plus some other small clues, should have everyone up in arms, just as I planned it. Soon, it'll be "Bye bye Darkwing," "Hello, New Negaverse!""

Negaduck started laughing. Getting himself back under control, he picked up a machine gun that had been leaning against the armoire.

"As for you," Negaduck pointed the gun at Gizmoduck's face. "I've about run out of use for you. My Gyro is finishing up with the diagnostics of that suit, while my SHUSH is busy tracking down my version of YOU. Once you're out of the way, the Negaversion of you will put on the suit and then I'll have it under my complete control. Heh heh heh. Don't know why I didn't think of this sooner... Any last words, Hero?"

Gizmo gulped. The bullets might not damage the suit, but his exposed beak and neck wouldn't stand a chance.

"N...Not really in the mindset for heroic declarations right now..." he stammered.

Negaduck's tongue poked out the side of his bill in anticipation. But before he fired, he quickly scanned the room to make sure the other two occupants weren't sneaking up on him.

Glomgold sputtered. "Watch where ya point that thing!"

The barrel, predictably, swung at him.

Glomgold chuckled nervously. "Heh, heh. I don't suppose you'd take traveler's checks?"

"Hey Negster!" Darkwing taunted from behind the criminal. Negaduck spun to face him and found several of his Negarobots facing him. "Guess what else I learned in class?"

The robots produced their weapons and locked on the stunned fiend.

"Target located. Detain or destroy," the point robot droned. Negaduck opened fire, invoking return fire from his mechanical army. As his nemesis dodged multiple missiles, Darkwing calmly rejoined his companions, brushing off his hands.

"Eh eh eh. I always knew that engineering course would come in handy someday... Especially, reverse engineering..."

"Well done, Wingy," Gizmo grinned appreciatively. "Now what?"

"I believe our "friend" here," Darkwing gestured over his shoulder at Negaduck. "Is going to be pretty busy for a while. Not only were the robots reprogramed to target him, but they're also set to go after NegaGyro and guard the main computer that controls them."

"You did all that in less than a minute?" Glomgold asked, his tone indicating equal amounts of skepticism and amazement.

"With a little help from these," Darkwing drew two things out of his pocket. One was the electronic pen Glomgold had used on the Gizmosuit days ago. Darkwing had found it on the floor next to the armoire. The other object was Tim's pocketknife, the Bald Eagle bold and beautifully detailed on the turquoise handle.

Darkwing tucked both back in his pockets. "And it helped that there weren't any safeguards to prevent hacking. The robots were also set to apprehend anyone who engages in combat with them and send a newsflash to the media with a personal message from me. It was nice of Negs to install a camcorder and a Live Newsfeed on his robots. The whole Negaverse will know their, ahem, "Lord and Leader" is the new target of his metal brigade."

"Again, you did all that while we were looking down a gun barrel?" Glomgold asked with further skepticism.

"Okay okay!" Darkwing snapped. "I went around back to find something to use as a weapon and a robot came up to me with Tim on the screen. He and his friends overrode the system."

_And my friends were there, too,_ Darkwing thought silently. He'd gotten to see Gosalyn on the video screen with Tank and the Friendly Four, all happy to see him and in full control of NegaTower. Seeing Gosalyn safe made this whole adventure worthwhile. Darkwing finished his explanation before Glomgold could question him again.

"All I did was verify my identity with the knife and record a message. So sue me! Although I did put that reverse engineering course to good use..." Darkwing gestured to the armoire. _With a little coaching from Tank and Megavolt_, Darkwing added silently to himself.

The armoire's doors opened to reveal a pool of glowing red light. A steady hum and vibration rocked them.

Gizmo approached it cautiously. Glancing back at his companions, he asked hopefully, "Does this means we get to go home?"

Darkwing grinned and swept an arm toward the portal. "Be my guest."

* * *

><p>The inter dimensional portal spat them out together, leaving them lying in a heap on a concrete floor. Just like in the Negaverse, there was nothing around them but the armoire. Darkwing brushed himself off and peeked out the window. The familiar sight of his beloved city greeted him.<p>

"Ah... Home sweet home..." Darkwing breathed in appreciatively.

Gizmoduck tapped on his helmet and looked concerned.

"Uh oh, not good..."

"What?" Darkwing turned to him, just missing sight of a laser aimed at his head. He walked over to join the armored hero.

Gizmoduck checked his computer and played back Dr. Bellum's message. _"Gizmoduck, can you hear me? Tap on the speaker if you are able..." _

Gizmo did so, but nobody responded. "Either my headgear was fried on reentry or someone changed the frequency and I didn't get the notice..."

"Only one way to find out..." Darkwing said, heading to the door. It burst open before he could touch it.

"FREEZE!" several armed men in various uniforms stood before him, their weapons covering him and the other occupants of the room.

"Darkwing Duck, you're under arrest! Throw down your weapons and keep your hands in the air or we will fire!" the SWAT team commander ordered him, his crosshairs trained on the duck's forehead.

Darkwing straightened from his initial shock and smiled confidently,

"Ah, so good of you to stop by, officers! I believe Mr. Flintheart Glomgold was just on his way over to explain some things..."

"Throw down your weapons and... Wait, did you just say "Glomgold?"" the police commissioner, unable to see over the SWAT team's heads, was speaking through a megaphone. He stammered when he heard the familiar name.

"I believe this answers your question, Gentlemen!" Gizmoduck exclaimed triumphantly, hefting the Scot in the air by his coat so that everyone outside the warehouse could see it was him. "As you can see, my fellow hero here is innocent of all charges..."

Glomgold further proved his identity by throwing a tantrum, swinging his fists around to try to free his coat.

Darkwing raised his voice, redirecting the attention back to himself.

"Annnd Commissioner, you may want to check your personnel back at the station. Your new medical examiner was blackmailed by Negaduck into identifying a fellow by the name of Bill Harrington as Mr. Glomgold here. I believe you'll find Mr. Harrington died of natural causes. Mr. Harrington's family will appreciate having him returned." Darkwing finished, not bothering to mention Morgana's part in the investigation.

"Aw. How could we doubt you, Darkwing?" a police captain asked sincerely, his team already moving in to confiscate Glomgold.

The head of the National Guard wasn't so easily swayed.

"What about the dirty bomb and the nuke?"

Darkwing's jaw dropped. "What!"

"We had reports confirming the purchase of components used for bomb making and a truck stolen from a nuclear factory. Sound familiar?" the dog growled.

Darkwing tugged on his collar and sweated.

"Uh...Is it getting warmer or is it just me?" he asked nervously.

The SWAT team swarmed around him, ready to fire. Darkwing gulped, then regained the use of his tongue.

"Wait a minute! I'm the victim here! I was set up by Negaduck! He's behind everything and he'll be coming through that door any minute!"

Everyone turned expectantly toward the warehouse. Right on cue, the bomb squad called over the radio for backup, saying there was a weird energy surge and a bright green light coming out of an armoire.

"Right on cue. Boy am I good or what...?" Darkwing smiled.

"Move in!" the SWAT commander ordered and his team swarmed into the building. Moments later, they filed out, with Negaduck cuffed and carried by two powerfully built bears in camouflage. Negaduck's protests were lost over the radio chatter as the bomb squad, S.H.U.S.H., SCPD, National Guard, and the SWAT leaders confirmed there was no bomb, only a piece of furniture which they were in the process of dismantling. Dr. Bellum and a small team of scientists rushed in to rescue what they could before the evidence was taken away by the various parties.

The S.W.A.T. Team and National Guard started packing up, leaving the technicalities for the police to handle.

Hooter stepped up to Darkwing, smiling proudly. "It is good to see you, Darkwing. I knew you were unlikely to have had a hand in Mr. Harrington's demise, and I'm sorry for sending Gizmoduck to arrest you. I don't suppose you'll come with us for questioning now, will you?" Hooter asked, already knowing the answer.

Darkwing returned the smile. "Not tonight, J. Gander, but perhaps tomorrow. Right now, I'd appreciate having a normal evening for a change."

"Very well, Darkwing. I'll make an appointment for you tomorrow evening. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a lot of work to handle..." Hooter glanced meaningfully toward the squad car Glomgold was being led to and at Dr. Bellum arguing over a piece of the armoire.

Both Hooter and Darkwing were close enough to the police squadron to overhear the police officer directing Glomgold into the car.

"Mr. Glomgold, if you'll please..."

"Alright, fine. Just don't expect any charitable donations..." Glomgold growled as he climbed into a squad car.

The police drove off, leaving the higher ups to their investigation of the warehouse.

Gizmoduck stretched and yawned. "Boy, am I bushed... I think I'm due for some vacation time from Mr. McDuck."

Darkwing raised an eyebrow. "As long as your "vacation" doesn't include a trip to my place anytime soon..." Seeing Gizmo frown, Darkwing smirked and added. "I think three days is a long enough visit for the time being..."

Gizmo counted on his fingers as he tried to figure out how Darkwing had arrived that number. Glancing up at the moon, he asked. "Wait, what day is this?"

"Well, either it's Tuesday night or we spent more time in the Negaverse than I thought." Darkwing checked his watch. He wasn't sure if it had been affected by the time stream or not, but at least it was still ticking. The calendar showed Tuesday's date.

Gizmo yawned again. "Whatever day it is, it promises to be a good one."

"Yeah," Darkwing smiled.

"So, you want a ride back to headquarters, or family first?"

Darkwing considered this, resting his hands on his hips. In doing so, he bumped against a familiar shape in his pocket and he smiled introspectively.

"Neither. I think it's high time I walk these streets fearlessly again."

"I dunno," Gizmo put a finger to his beak. "Sounds kinda risky to me..."

"Ha! Risk is my middle name! And besides, I can take anything this town has to offer." Darkwing said confidently.

"Alright, I won't question your judgement. You know my number if you change your mind. And you know I'll always have your back..."

"Back at ya, Giz. Back at you..."

The two superheroes saluted and parted ways. Darkwing took to the rooftops and discreetly changed back into his civilian attire behind a convienience store, strolling out the front door like he owned the place. He brushed his hands together.

"Eh, eh, eh. Nothing like a bit of non strenuous exercise to clear the mind. And the perfect opportunity to make amends..."

* * *

><p>Later, as the city settled in for the night, Drake headed down a familiar street, filled with graffiti, broken bottles, gum, and cigarette stubs littering walls and sidewalk. He wasn't surprised to hear a familiar voice call out.<p>

"Hey! Look who came back to play wit' us! It's ol' Pops again," the duck with the scarred bill exclaimed.

Several thugs stepped out of dark doorways. Drake ignored them. He was looking for one face in particular. Seeing no one in a spiked collar or beret approaching, he looked back at Scarbill.

"Where's your boss? I came to speak with him alone."

Before anybody could reply, a shadow fell over Drake.

"Whatcha wanna talk wit' me for, Pops?"

Drake spun and found himself eye to eye with the terrier again. Fighting back the impulse to jump on the dog's neck to hug him, he cleared his throat and fiddled with his vest.

"Scraps, I just wanted to say... I'm sorry for bumping into you before. And for making your friends look bad. I wanted to make it up to you..."

Scraps growled suspiciously as Drake reached into his vest. Drake held up his free hand as a way of saying he was unarmed and slowly drew out a small paper-wrapped parcel. Rather than proffering it as the gift it was meant to be, Drake tore off the paper and extended it on his palm.

The dog stared coldly, before recognition lit up his eyes.

"Impossible... This looks like my Pappy's knife... How... Why...?"

Drake smiled and took Scrap's hand, placing the enameled pocket knife with the Bald Eagle design in his palm. Drake then backed up a few steps and turned to walk away. Scraps noticed his departure and stopped him with his voice.

"Hey! Why'd you do this? I could kill ya with it, you know!"

Drake smiled calmly. "Yeah, I know. But even a tough guy like you needs someone to care about him. And a little birdie told me how much that knife meant to you... Tim."

White appeared around the dog's dark brown eyes as he gawked. "How do you know my name? Are you investigating me or something?"

"No. Let's just say a certain crime fighter asked me to deliver it. So long, Scraps."

Drake waved and walked back the way he'd come. He was well aware that he could end up flat on the ground any second with that knife buried in his back, but he was counting on "Tim" to come through this once. And maybe, just maybe, the Negaverse Tim and the original Scraps would someday be on the same side of the law.

The End

* * *

><p><em>Ta'da! Another successful sabotage of a savage scheme to take over St. Canard by our suave and savvy superhero team... Sorry. Couldn't resist. Although I have yet to break out a real thesaurus to write Gizmo' and Darkwing's dialogues, I'm making liberal use of my word processor's features. It doesn't offer nearly enough creative suggestions, though, so I'm really stretching my vocabulary.<em>

_How did you like my original character Scraps? I was trying to think of a tough guy/scaredy cat with a sweet temper and looked no further than my own four-footed friend at my feet. He thinks he's as tough as a street thug but he's a real softie at heart. A typical Cairn terrier. I don't have anything planned for Scraps right now, but he may make another appearance someday._

_This about does it for my DW ideas. As always, reviews are appreciated and suggestions are seriously considered. If you spot any mistakes I've missed, or if you think I put too much of my own voice in a character's mouth and went OOC, help me out! I've only seen three other Gizmoduck episodes besides the five on the DT dvd, and there weren't many scenes with Glomgold, so any suggestions you have for keeping these two in character will be highly appreciated. I'm here to practice my writing and learn along the way. Thanks for reading! _


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